


owl feathers and orange fuzzy socks

by uhjpg



Series: feathers au [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Gotham (TV), Young Justice - All Media Types
Genre: 'mysterious new character' in chapter four lmao, Alternate Universe - Circus, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Court of Owls, Dick Grayson is a Talon, Haly's Circus, Resurrected Jason Todd, damian is being nice enough to make everyone around him scared for their lives, dick seems like he has no personality at first but thats just the brainwashing babes !, dick's fashion sense is v bad but you can't tell at first, everyone eventually gets adopted by bruce, he's still a little shit dw !!, idk where im going w this im just mad cuz i said i wouldnt post this until i finish it and yET, jason joined the league when he was like 11, jason knows damian from when he was still with the league of assassins, jason's a hot mess and that's ok, maybe our friends are the plot twists we met along the way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-26
Updated: 2019-04-02
Packaged: 2019-11-06 01:37:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 32,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17930309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uhjpg/pseuds/uhjpg
Summary: Jason is on the run from the League of Assassins and Bruce offers him protection in return for Jason helping him with a case at the Circus. While it seems easy enough, he soon gets caught up in something that he might not be able to get out of without a little help. Too bad that the only people who CAN help him are a brainwashed assassin and a ditzy teen that he's almost 100% sure is a ghost.Who knew that the Court of Owls was actually a thing? Not Jason, that's for sure, and he's been with not one, but two, elusive organizations...he probably should've seen this coming.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i TOLD myself i wouldn't post this until i finished it but here i go again smh
> 
> im already working on ch. 2 though so dw lmao

_ December 3rd, 1998 _

 

_ It was a dreary night, the clouds hanging thick and heavy, the dimly lit moon long drowned out by the ever-growing smog that Gotham had been enveloped in since the beginning of the Industrial Revolution. _

 

_ There wasn't a single soul out tonight, but with the rising numbers of the crime lords and gang leaders who had crawled out of the sewers when the GCPD had lost control of the criminals in the city back in the ‘60s, that was hardly a surprise. _

 

_ Despite this, the humans were as ignorant as ever. They were far along into what they considered their ‘Age of Enlightenment’ and yet were still blind to what was right in front of them. Everyone, no matter their position, believe they had control over their lives, their destiny. Everyone, from the crime lords who believed they actually ruled Gotham, to the GCPD that was slowly rotting from the inside out believed they had some control. _

 

_ Oh, how wrong they were. _

 

_ They only knew what  _ **_they_ ** _ let them see, and the human philosophy, ‘see it to believe it’ has benefited  _ **_them_ ** _ greatly over the years. No one knew about him. About  _ **_them. They_ ** _ were a nursery rhyme used to scare small children and nothing more.  _

 

_ And that's just how  _ **_they_ ** _ wanted  _ **_themselves_ ** _ to be viewed as. _

 

_ As his target comes into view, he scans the surrounding area for any sign of life. Just as expected, there was none. In Gotham, there was another human philosophy that aided  _ **_them_ ** _ greatly. It was ‘Don't Stick Your Nose Where You Shouldn't Or Pay The Consequences’. The humans were selfish, self-preserving, and cowardly. It was a wonder they had been able to survive for so long without extinction wrapping its fat greedy fingers around them and choking the life from their frail little lungs. _

 

_ He drops soundlessly onto the roof and creeps towards the small window. The window itself was easy enough to open, but the bars that protected the window from prying hands would cause a short delay. No matter, the window was made to keep out  _ humans,  _ not him. _

 

_ He wraps his gloved hands around the metal beams and squeezes, feeling the bars wilt underneath his grasp as he twists them out of his way and makes for the window. _

 

_ Body tensing with apprehension, he peers inside, his enhanced vision easily making out the form of two sleeping bodies. His body tingles with excitement. He'd been on ice for so long, about twelve years to be exact. Last time he had been let out, it was to take care of a different family. ‘Timothy and Maria Wayne’ he thinks. He knows their first names aren't right, but he can't remember and he can't bring himself to care. He is an assassin, not a log book. _

 

_ Springing into action, he grips his talon, clamps a hand over the woman's mouth, and plunges his weapon into her. She wakes up, and a flash of recognition shines in her already dulling eyes. _

 

_ He leans in close to her and whispers “Miss me?” Earning a swat to the face. The woman drew blood and he hisses in irritation, feeling the blood slow as his body repairs itself. She frantically tries to wake her husband, to no avail.  _

 

_ He rolls his eyes. “You're  _ boring  _ me.” _

 

_ She glares at him with the fury of ten demons flaring in her eyes. “I know why you're here. But if you even him touch I will rip you limb from limb.” _

 

_ “Relax.” He stabs her again. “I won't harm a hair on your pretty son's head.” He cuts into her another time. This time she doesn't respond. _

 

_ “Of course,” he slits the man's throat. “That doesn't mean  _ **_they_ ** _ won't.” _

 

_ He then stabs him in the chest. “That's for keeping me from my grandson.” He hisses darkly, twisting the talon for good measure before drawing it out again. _

 

_ He sits on the floor, legs crossed, cleaning his weapon. He knew no one would come. ‘After all,’ he reasons, ‘this is Gotham.’  _

 

_ Getting up and stretching leisurely, he takes one last look at his handiwork before leaving, the only evidence he was there being the few grey feathers scattered across the room, slowly floating downwards to the bloodstained floor.  _

 

_ The next morning, Richard John Grayson is declared an orphan and enrolled in St. Mary's Orphanage. _

 

_ A week later, all signs of Richard John Grayson vanish, the only evidence left behind being grey owl feathers. _

 

_ Just a short month later, his case is closed and sealed, and no one ever hears of him again. _

 

_ “It's a mystery,” The Gothamites would tell each other in the few weeks it was relevant, “Just like his parent's murder. Untraceable, just like the owl feathers found in both crime scenes.”  _

 

_ But as the weeks drew on, all memory of Richard John Grayson and the owl feathers were gone, just like a dream that one can't remember. _

 

_ Just like that, the story of Richard John Grayson became akin to that of the age-old nursery rhyme;  _

 

_ Beware the Court of Owls, _

_ That watches all the time, _

_ Ruling Gotham from a shadowed perch, _

_ Behind granite and lime. _

_ They watch you at your hearth, _

_ They watch you in your bed, _

_ Speak not a whispered word of them,  _

_ Or they'll send the Talon for your head. _

 

_ Just a bedtime story to scare naughty children into behaving, because that's all they were, a story that's worth less than the old collection of recipes hidden by a grandmother who immigrated to a country to preserve her heritage. _

 

_ And that's just how they wanted it. _

 

**Chapter One**

 

March 7th, 2019

 

Jason was no stranger to bad days, fuck that,  _ terrible days  _ but this had to take the damn cake. Of course, most people react the same way when they're inconvenienced, but given his current situation, he wasn't ‘Most People’. 

 

That's correct, folks! He wasn't like most people, and he wasn't trying to be edgy or anything. Of course, most people would say the same thing, but most people aren't currently on the run from a powerful group of people known as the League of Assassins. 

 

If their super-secret club's inconspicuous name didn't tip you off, they weren't the friendliest bunch out there, and now all of them were out to kill him. 

 

The absurdity of the situation was almost funny. He didn't do anything to incur the wrath of the League, Ra's al Ghul had just decided he had had enough of the pathetic street rat that his daughter Talia had brought home after nine years of living with him. There was no betrayal, no refusal to assassinate someone he had been assigned to kill. Ra's just decided that he was tired of him.

 

Which made absolutely no sense to him, personally because one, Jason had literally already been dead when Talia brought him to the League. He could have literally just told her “No” and not let her dump him in the Lazarus Pit and just throw him out and let him rot on their ridiculously large doorstep. Second off, if he was going to throw him out and send people to hunt him down and kill him, why did he train him for nine years first? It just made a lot more sense if he just killed him from the get-go instead of forging him into one of his best assassins, but maybe that was just Jason. And last but not least, why the hell didn't Ra's just kill him there instead of letting him go and telling him that he would send his assassins after him. He didn't know what Ra's was planning, but he was pretty sure a part of it was for the drama of it all. That and Talia had disappeared from the face of the earth three years ago.

 

In conclusion, Ra's was a little too dramatic and Jason was having a terrible, no good, very bad week. And that was before he realized the car he had just tried to break into belonged to the Batman, and the said guy had caught him red-handed. Definitely not his best moment, but hey, everyone makes mistakes. His just usually cost him a lot more than the average person.

 

Currently, he was standing impatiently, tapping his foot against the cracked asphalt and picking at his nails, waiting for Batman to finish scolding him so he could get on with trying to run for his life.

 

“...You know that's the Batmobile that you just tried to hotwire, right?” came the gruff voice from behind the impassive mask.

 

Jason rolls his eyes. “And you know that you parked it in Crime Alley. Right?” He honestly can't believe the absurdity of this situation. The entire League of Assassins was out to get him and here he was getting reprimanded by Batman like he was a ten-year-old kid. Besides, if Batman didn't want his precious  _ Batmobile  _ stolen he should've parked it in a nicer neighborhood. It wasn't exactly rocket science. “Who's idea was it to name his car the Batmobile, anyway?’ He asks, “I know that people are starting to name their cars but this is honestly ridiculous.”

 

Batman's white lenses on his mask narrow into slits.

 

“Oo. Did I strike a nerve?” Jason asks brightly, leaning against the sleek black car casually, hoping that Batman hasn't activated some secret booby trap that would electrify him on the spot.

 

Instead of frying him on the spot with one of the security measures that Batman undoubtedly had on his car, Batman just eyes him and flat out tells him “You're on the run from the League of Assassins.” in his very impassive, monotone voice.

 

Jason freezes, sizing up Batman in case the man decided to try to take him out and deliver him to Ra's himself. He could just imagine it; Batman walking into Ra's room, dragging Jason in by the collar of his jacket. ‘Here.’ He'd say in his annoyingly emotionless voice. ‘Your assassin tried to steal my Batmobile.’

 

“Shit.” He mutters. “When people said you really do know everything, they weren't kidding. What gave it away? Is it the way I'm standing? Is it the haircut? Does it scream ‘exile’? ‘Cuz between you and me I wasn't sure how I felt about it in the first place.”

 

Batman just sends him a lazy smirk. Jason decides he likes Batman better when he's scowling.

 

“I guessed.” He tells him and Jason can hear a tinge of amusement in his voice.

 

“You're kidding.” Jason stares at him in disbelief. There was no way. Of all the scenarios Batman would have guessed, it was almost impossible to have picked exactly what Jason's actual issue was.

 

“I am.” Batman agrees, brushing past him, unlocking the car door with some ridiculously intuitive gadget that springs up from his glove. No wonder Jason hadn't been able to open it. “I have a pretty good network set up, and if something stirs, I know about it.”

 

He glares at Batman impassively. “You think you're funny.” 

 

Batman opens the door and casually sits in it, and unlocks the other side of it, opening it up and gesturing to Jason. “I'm hilarious.” He tells him in a deadpan voice as he closes the door.

 

Eyeing the vehicle, Jason briefly wonders if he should just tell Batman to go fuck himself and leave, but he decides having a pissed off vigilante on top of the League coming for him was a little much, even for him. Hesitantly, he inches towards the door, scanning for any sign of some trap put in place to incapacitate him.

 

Even though he can't see it, he can hear the evident eye roll in Batman's voice. “I'm not going to electrify you, or anything else of the sort.”

 

“Can't blame a guy for being careful.” He retorts, sliding in and shutting the door behind him. In hindsight, probably not the smartest thing to do.

 

Batman's mouth twitches upwards at the edges. “No.” He agrees. “I suppose not.” 

 

They sit in silence for only a short period of time but it was excruciating. Jason first intertwines his hands, twiddling his thumbs like some imbecile. He then begins tapping his foot on the ridiculously clean flooring of the car, and soon enough his entire leg begins bouncing up and down. He hopes that he isn't shaking the whole car. Annoying Batman probably wouldn't be the best idea right about now. Turning his eyes to look towards the very tinted windows, he briefly wonders how the hell Batman can see through the glass, much less drive, with the windows like that. He could barely make out the dumpster he had been hiding behind earlier. His other leg starts bouncing as well. He hears Batman sigh audibly but at this point, he couldn't stop even if he wanted to. He brings his hands closer to his body.

 

“I have a proposition for you.”

 

Jason looks up, face twisting into an irritated expression. “What part of ‘I'm on the run from the League of Assassins and cannot stay in one place for longer than a week’ do you not understand?” He snaps, crossing his arms, before reaching up to card his fingers through his hair. For one of the arguably most intelligent men alive, he sure was dense. 

 

“What if I told you you don't have to anymore.”

 

That makes Jason pause. Not having to run for the rest of his (probably short) life? Now that was something worth at least listening to.

 

“What did ya’ have in mind?” He asks curiosity, subconsciously shifting closer to the man next to him.

 

“Ra's al Ghul and I have a specific agreement.” He begins. Jason waits on him to elaborate on that but he doesn't. “So, I'm willing to provide you protection. In exchange with helping me with a case of my own.” 

 

He takes a moment, mulling on what Batman had just offered him. On one hand, he could spend the next few months, maybe a year, on the run from Ra's al Ghul and his little murder gang before they got to him, or he could get  _ Batman's  _ protection and help him out with some case. 

 

Option number two was becoming more and more appealing by the minute. Finally, he breaks the silence that had once again settled over them. “What's the case?” He asks.

 

“A circus.” The car revs to life and flies forwards, jolting Jason towards the dashboard. He sends a silent thanks to whatever was out there that had made him put on the seatbelt. 

 

“A circus.” He repeats in disbelief. The batmobile speeds towards a thick bunch of trees, and at the last moment, they move aside to let them pass through unscathed. He stares at the vigilante, mouth open. ‘How the hell?’ He wonders. 

 

If Batman knew what he was thinking, he doesn't acknowledge it. “It's no ordinary circus.” He assures him, never taking his eyes off the road. Jason's glad he's not one of those people who used their phones while they drove. At the speed they were going at, they'd probably be dead if Batman took his attention from the road for even a second.

 

“What? Is the color scheme off? Do they not have elephants?”

 

“Haley's Circus appears just every other circus from the outside.”

 

Jason could tell there was a “but” coming and waits as patiently as possible.

 

“Haley's Circus is a traveling circus like most are. However,” Batman turns the wheel sharply and the car does a 90-degree turn and flies down a hidden road. “Wherever this circus visits, people are always reported missing and there are at least ten murders without fail. It perfectly correlates with the arrival and departure of the circus. And there's always a trail of owl feathers left behind that connects perfectly with the circus’ obvious affinity for owls. Authorities have tried to connect them for years to no avail.’

 

Jason takes a minute to process the information. “Okay…” he starts “What I'm getting is there's a psycho circus that is probably run by a secret criminal organization that's obsessed with owls. That's great and all but why not alert the police? Why spend all this time on it yourself? And won't the circus move before you have a chance to thoroughly investigate?”

 

“Because their front is impeccable. It was only after months that I could find any connection to the disappearances and murders other than the time correlation. The GCPD simply isn't well trained or equipped for the task. And I need people who I  _ know  _ can fend for themselves. As for the circus, it hasn't moved for over two months, suggesting that they have an ulterior motive. I need someone who isn't a known associate of Batman's to investigate.” 

 

“Why not just go undercover yourself without the cowl on?” 

 

“Because,” Batman replies, a smug smirk forming on his face, “Bruce Wayne can't exactly sneak around without attracting at least some attention.”

 

“Wait you're-” He briefly sees Wayne Manor before the car takes a nosedive downwards and goes towards the cliff, which opens up at the last minute and then closes behind them. “You're  _ Bruce Wayne?”  _ He asks in disbelief as the batmobile speeds down the tunnel.

 

The car pulls into a cave and comes to a stop in the center. 

 

Casually, Batman removes his cowl to reveal Bruce Wayne's annoyingly handsome face underneath.

 

“What the  _ fuck _ ? Why couldn't you be something lame, like a bus driver or something? Why'd you have to be like a hundred times cooler than everyone else with both of your identities?” 

 

Bruce Wayne grins and leaps out of his car and makes his way to an enormous, bright computer and begins inputting something in it, gloved fingers flying across the keyboard.

 

“You could have at least been ugly.” Mutters Jason as he makes his way to where the billionaire was standing, fingers running through his hair.

 

“Sorry to disappoint.”

 

“Yeah yeah, don't worry about it.” Jason waves his hand flippantly and Bruce looks over, slightly amused that Jason had taken his apology seriously.

 

“This is what I have on the circus.” He turns to Jason, gesturing to the computer. “It has everything I've been able to gather on them on here.”

 

Jason shoves Bruce out of the way and leans closer to the monitor, eyes glued to the screen, taking in every bit of information.

 

The circus itself looked very high maintenance, though if it was being run by a nearly undetectable criminal organization, they probably had the money to keep it sustained. It was the actual people in it that raised alarm bells. Batman had an image of every missing person next to every new member of the circus, and they were all unmistakably the same person once you looked at them long enough.

 

Of course, there were other members too, ones that had been a part of the Circus for so many years that they  _ had  _ to be involved with the crimes. He scrolls through the images, grainy photos that Bruce had managed to take without detection, looking at the members. There was a blonde lady, covered with freckles, throwing a very unhinged smile at someone that he couldn't see. There was another lady, this one dark and lithe, in the process of wrapping up a whip. A boy with yellow eyes in an oversized black turtleneck, looking downwards. Another with bright blue eyes and unruly black hair with a broad, excited smile. A very pale man weight lifting something that Jason would never even think was  _ possible  _ to lift. A man in a top hat with an unnervingly blank expression. And countless others.

 

Jason quickly scanned through all of them and reached the section about the owl feathers. They were apparently of great significance, but Jason couldn't see why. He didn't understand what it was with vigilantes and criminals with their animal associated obsession. 

 

Underneath, Bruce had an image of an old book with a nursery rhyme on it; 

 

_ Beware the Court of Owls, _

_ That watches all the time, _

_ Ruling Gotham from a shadowed perch, _

_ Behind granite and lime. _

_ They watch you at your hearth, _

_ They watch you in your bed, _

_ Speak not a whispered word of them,  _

_ Or they'll send the Talon for your head. _

 

Underneath, Bruce had typed “Correlation?” 

 

Jason scoffs. The Court of Owls were a myth made up to scare kids into doing the right thing for fear that crazy powerful owl men would come out of the shadows and punish them. But Batman knew that. He probably meant that they drew their inspiration from the nursery rhyme, which explained the owl feathers.

 

He rolls his eyes and runs his fingers through his hair. He was tired of people trying to be edgy by taking nursery rhymes and giving them a darker edge.

 

He scrolls down some more. The victims had been questioned but they swore that they were different people and were there out of their free will. They even had documents to back up their claims. ‘Brainwashing?’ He wonders, looking back at the pictures of the missing persons and the people employed at the circus. It was very likely. 

 

He frowns. That means that this organization was very powerful. It's not easy to brainwash so effectively on such a large scale. Just as he moves onto the next section, he hears a heavy door slide open, followed by the nearly soundless patter of someone else's footsteps.

 

“Father.” Came the annoyingly posh voice. “What is this  _ imbecile  _ doing in the cave?”

 

He turns around to see a familiar looking kid, no more than thirteen, glaring down at him from where he was standing at the top of the stairs. He takes a moment to look at the kid, trying to figure out why he looked so familiar. The answer came with the memory of an angry nine-year-old and a dagger. 

 

“ _ Shit.  _ Bruce. I don't wanna cause any issues but that...kid is a bloodthirsty assassin that's been trained by the League of Assassins from birth-” he pauses, while his brain registers what he had heard. “You're his  _ father? _ You got it on with Talia?”

 

“Ah. Todd. What an unpleasant surprise. I had assumed my grandfather would have disposed of you by now.” Damian sniffs pretentiously.

 

“Oh. He tried.” Jason tells him lightly, but tenses, waiting for the demon child to attack him.

 

“Damian.” Bruce nods in acknowledgment before going back to whatever he was doing on the slightly smaller monitor next to the one Jason had been reading on.

 

The demon's spawn makes his way towards his father, standing stoically next to him, trying to imitate his father, apparently having lost interest in Jason.

 

Jason rolls his eyes so hard he can feel them inside his brain. He thought he'd seen the last of this kid three years ago when Talia disappeared, taking him along with her. He had been ten then, which means he had been right about his estimated age. He hadn't grown out of his pretentious attitude though. He goes back to reading.

 

It takes all of his nine years of intense training with the League and the All-Caste to not flinch when Damian suddenly appears next to him and begins reading the case file.

 

“Tt. I expected more of you, Father. First revealing your identity to this  _ moron  _ and then letting him read highly classified information.”

 

Jason's eyes widen about four centimeters more than they should have and he grinds his teeth together to keep from saying something that would make Bruce kick him out. He was gonna burst a blood vessel if he was around this kid for much longer.

 

Bruce finally turns his full attention on them. “That _moron_ is going to be a key part of this investigation and you should start practicing to treat him as a valid member of our team. Because he is. He is more than capable of it.”

 

If Damian was annoyed at his father for chewing him out in front of Jason, he doesn't show it, face as impassive as always.

 

Bruce eyes him for a few more seconds before asking “Where's Tim?”

 

“Out with that bumbling oaf. I honestly don't know why you thought it would be beneficial for Drake to hang around that sorry excuse for a Super but-”

 

Jason drowns him out and starts scrolling up and down the page. He wasn't even paying attention to the words on the screen anymore, he just wanted to get on with the mission already. Then he wouldn't have to worry about crazy murderous children and men that dressed in bat costumes and their personal issues. Instead, he'd be undercover in a circus with crazy murderous adults and people who had a really weird fixation with owls.

 

He seriously doubted any of them would be scarier than Damian Wayne, and with thought, he pushes off from the desk he had been leaning on.

 

“Okay. When do I start?”

 

Bruce looks up at him skeptically. “You're ready to go? Don't you think you should spend at least a few days learning to work with us?” the unsaid ‘mainly Damian’ was very obvious but Jason and Damian let it slide. “We will be in constant contact with you, and will occasionally be going there. As Bruce and Damian Wayne of course. You need to be able to work with us as seamlessly as possible before you infiltrate the circus. There's only so much we can do without tipping them off that I'm investigating.” 

 

Jason eyes Damian for a second. The kid, though his face was impassive, was practically radiating with irritation. 

 

If this was going to annoy the little freak, then he guesses he has no choice. 

 

“Okay,” he agrees with an easy grin, “I'll stay for a few days.”

 

“Good. I'll have Alfred make a room up for you.”

 

“Who?”

 

“My butler?”

 

“You have a butler?” Jason asks him blankly. How could he risk having someone without training living with them?

 

“Do not underestimate Pennyworth.” Damian tells him, “He could defeat you in seconds.” before turning on his heel and walking up the stairs and disappearing behind a wall.

 

“You have your own personal ninja-butler?” he turns to Bruce, grinning.

 

Bruce's once again impassive mask falls back into place.“He was the first person who trained me to defend myself.” He tells him and then follows Damian.

 

Jason stops for a moment. It had never occurred to him that  _ Batman  _ needed training. He just kinda assumed that he came out of the womb ready to incapacitate someone.

 

“You coming?” Bruce looks down at him from the top of the stairs. “This door won't open for you unless you have clearance, which you don't currently have, and it gets pretty cold in here once the power shuts down. I'm pretty sure you don't want to be trapped here for the night.”

 

Rolling his eyes, Jason climbs up the stairs and follows Bruce through the door.

 

-

 

The house was enormous. That was Jason's first thought as he and Bruce walked through a hole in the wall that had when Bruce opened the door to the cave. As they walked past, an old grandfather clock slipped back in front of where the opening had been.

 

Walking through the corridors, all lined with portraits of presumably all the Waynes, he becomes more and more uncomfortable.

 

He grew up in the streets, and then spent most of his life with the League or the All-Caste. Neither had focused on ‘earthly pleasures’ as they had called them. As a result, he was used to sleeping on the cold, hard ground with only his clothes for warmth, and plain surroundings. He never owned much, just the clothes on his back, and the weapons he was given. And a toothbrush. 

 

As a result, walking into the Wayne Manor was a jarring contrast between what he was used to. With extensive furniture everywhere, and a ridiculous amount of chandeliers hanging above them, and the thick, soft carpet underneath him, he feels very out of place.

 

He suddenly feels the need to run away, he doesn't like it here, but he steels his nerves and forces himself to continue walking. He doesn't run away from anything.

 

They finally make to a room with a dining table so big it could probably fit half the League.

 

Damian was already sitting at the table, looking unimpressed. “What took you so long.” 

 

“It's not our fault you had a tantrum and left before the rest of us.” Jason snaps at him before he could stop himself. Old habits die hard, and antagonizing Damian was a habit that he had developed over the years. It's not like the kid didn't deserve it.

 

Damian's grip on the knife set next to his plate tightens, but he just smiles.

 

Jason hates it when Damian smiles. That meant he would probably attempt to cut off his fingers or something later on when Bruce wasn't looking.

 

Bruce sits at the head of the table, and Jason sits to his left, directly in front of Damian. He looks down at his plate and looks at the food set out. There was a salad with a type of dressing that he wasn't exactly sure he'd ever seen before, brown rice with caramelized onions, and black beans were carefully spread over the rice. He takes notice of the lack of meat and briefly wonders if Bruce's strict ‘No Killing’ policy extended towards poultry. 

 

He detects someone walking towards them, and he looks up to see an older looking man carrying a container filled with what appeared to be lemonade.

 

Alfred, he concludes.

 

“Good evening, Master Jason.” He doesn't bother introducing himself, but he figures he knows he doesn't need to. “I hope the meal is up to your standards, despite how simple it is. Master Bruce failed to mention we were having a guest until  _ after  _ I made supper.” Alfred glares at Bruce before setting down the lemonade and begins distributing cups.

 

“Uh. Thanks.” Jason manages to get out. He had been wrong. Alfred Pennyworth was the scariest human he's ever met, not Damian.

 

“If you are curious by the noticeable lack of meat, that is as a courtesy to Master Damian. Master Bruce and I decided it would be beneficial to support Damian in his decision to not consume animals.” His British accent was laced with amusement as he pours Jason a generous amount of lemonade.

 

Jason nods. “Animals, huh kid? What do you have? A dog?”

 

“Yes. And a cat. And a cow.”

 

Jason freezes. “A...cow?”

 

Damian nods seriously. “Her name is Bat-Cow.”

 

“Bat-Cow?” Jason struggles to keep a straight face. “Huh. You'll have to show her to me.”

 

Apparently, showing interest in Damian's pet was the right thing to do because his demeanor changes ever so slightly. “Alright.” The thirteen-year-old nods. “I will take you to the barn after dinner to meet her.”

 

“Sounds like a plan.” Jason agrees, shoveling into the rice and beans, deciding that despite Alfred's insistence that the meal was mediocre, it was the best thing he's eaten in months.

 

“Slow down, Master Jason, though we are all here trained in medical care, I would hate to have to resuscitate you here on the dining table.” Alfred admonishes before turning back to what was presumably the kitchen.

 

Jason slows down, looking sheepishly at his plate. “Whoops.”

 

“He just wants to meet Bat-Cow,” Damian calls after Alfred. “If I was meeting her for the first time again I'd risk choking too.”

 

Dinner was uneventful for the rest of the evening, and when he finishes eating, Jason moves to take his plate to the kitchen, only to be dismissed by Alfred.

 

“Nonsense, Master Jason, you are a guest and I will not have you doing my job for me.” When Jason looks like he's going to argue, he fixes him with a severe glare and tells him “Masters Bruce and Damian have been trying to help me for years and have failed to let me allow them to help willingly. I advise you to give up now, as it is a futile task.”

 

“I dunno, I am pretty persuasive.”

 

“And I am pretty stubborn,” Alfred tells him briskly, swatting his hands out of the way and taking his plate, along with Bruce and Damian's.

 

Damian hops off of his chair and pushes it in. “Come on.” He tells Jason. “We're going to see Bat-Cow.”

 

Jason wants nothing more than to avoid being alone with Damian, but Bruce looks like he has no interest in going to the barn, and if he refuses Damian would probably murder him in his sleep, so he follows the kid out the back door, praying that Damian isn't just getting him far enough away from Bruce so that no one can hear his screams as he gets brutally murdered by a thirteen-year-old.

 

He briefly wonders if this is all a joke. This sounds  _ way  _ to similar to the “there's a pool in building three” joke that seniors would play on freshmen in high school. Not that he ever went to high school but still.

 

“Uh. How long have you had...Bat-Cow?”

 

“About three years. I rescued her from a slaughterhouse with Father. She's the reason we stopped eating meat.”

 

Jason imagines a ten-year-old Damian coming home with a cow in tow, announcing to Alfred and whoever else was in the house at the time “As of now I am a vegetarian. And this is Bat-Cow.” while Bruce trailed behind him, internally groaning because he knows he'll have to buy a barn and place it on the property because Damian is a very persuasive child that  _ will  _ get his way.

 

“Nice.” He nods, not knowing what else to do or say. Thirty minutes ago Damian looked ready to kill him and now he was casually talking about his pet cow. He didn't know what to do in this situation, it had never happened before.

 

Damian stops in front of a barn, and for a hot second, Jason is shocked that there was actually a barn in the first place.

 

The kid opens one of the heavy doors with little difficulty and beckons Jason to follow.

 

“Bat-Cow!” He calls in an uncharacteristically soft voice. “I brought you a visitor!” 

 

Jason hears a soft “moo” and he's instantly reminded of one of the few movies he watched as a kid. Annabelle's Wish. It had been about a calf who gave up her voice for a mute little kid. He thinks he might have cried at the ending but he's not sure. Maybe if he survived the whole circus debacle and Damian wasn't altering between killing him and showing him his pets every few hours he'd find the movie and show it to him.

 

They round a corner and see a white and brown cow poking her nose out of her stall, nosing at Damian's hand as he pets her.

 

“Would you like to pet her? She won't bite if I tell her not to.”

 

Jason eyes him for a second, trying to figure out if Damian would scream “Bite ‘Im!” as soon as he touched the cow but nods anyway.

 

Damian rolls his eyes. “As long as you do not pose a threat to her, I will not kill you.”

 

“Thanks.” He doesn't really believe him but he'll take what he can get. He reaches out at pets Bat-Cow, noticing that she has a patch of brown fur over her face that looks like the bat signal. He cracks a smile.

 

Damian looks at him with approval. “She likes you.”

 

“Well, Bat-Cow ain't that bad herself.” 

 

“You're right. She's perfect.”

 

They stay there for a few more minutes before Bat-Cow decides she's bored of them and turns around and walks away from them.

 

Damian looks at him one last time before turning around and walking back towards the manor. Jason follows him, closing the barn door as quietly as he can, looking up at the dark, clear sky. 

 

He swears if he looks hard enough he can almost see the stars twinkling weakly through the thick Gotham smog.

 

-

 

Damian barely acknowledges Jason over the next few days. A nod in passing, a grunt when asked a question, or a sigh is all Jason got out of him over the next four days. It wasn't until the day before he had to leave that Domain spoke to him again.

 

Jason sat idly on the window seat facing the gardens, eyes closed, meditating. It was uncharacteristically silent, usually, Damian and Bruce sparred in it, much to Alfred's dismay, but today there wasn't a soul out.

 

He wasn't sure how long he'd been there, he had come up after an early dinner and after a quick shower, he'd began meditating and focusing on his upcoming mission. Now he was just trying to relax. He wasn't scared of the mission, of course. Just uncomfortable with the lavish room. It seemed really ridiculous to him, he'd been here for a couple days and he thought he'd get used to it, but for some reason, he couldn't sleep on the bed. It was too big, too soft, too expensive. Same with the shower. He couldn't stay in there for more than ten minutes without becoming increasingly uncomfortable. He just couldn't accustom himself to it.

 

When he hears Damian's characteristically soft footsteps patter into his room, he opens his eyes and he's met with a pitch black sky. He looks over at the digital clock on the desk to the left of him. The neon green numbers read “9:37 PM”. He frowns. When he had come up, it had been a little after six. 

 

“Ahem.”

 

He turns to where Damian was standing almost uncertainly a few feet away from him. 

 

“Wanna sit?”

 

Damian quickly scrambles up to the window seat and sits next to him, crossing his legs. He doesn't speak at first, choosing instead to gaze outside the window, down at the lavish garden that was arguably Alfred's most prized possession in the entire manor. The minutes tick by, and Jason figures that he just wants some company. The clock now read “9:49 PM”.

 

He takes a second to really take in Damian's profile. He had lived with this kid for years, but never really focused on him. Now, he finally paid attention to the kid. He had thick black hair that was short enough to stay out of his eyes, but Jason knows if he lets it get long enough it would be incredibly unruly. He also had sharp grey eyes, a slightly rounded nose, and a mouth with a slightly frowning resting position. When he wasn't threatening to murder him, Jason could almost believe Damian was just another kid waiting for the newest type of game to come out or wanting to finger paint or something. He looks so peaceful and for a second, Jason feels a pang of sadness hit his chest.

 

When he was first resurrected, he had been a total brat that had been absorbed in his own issues. He hadn't had time for the little kid who followed him around like a little duckling before finally giving up after Jason hurt him with his words time and time again. Now, looking back, Damian had it almost as bad as he did. He'd say just as bad but Damian wasn't brutally murdered at age eleven. Still, Damian's life had been no cake walk. 

 

He had been born into the League of Assassins by the leader's daughter. He never had a chance at a normal life. As soon as the kid could stand, he was given a knife. He had been trained relentlessly and punished severely when he showed emotion. He tried to find a friend in Jason because surely the only other kid in the league would be able to relate. Instead, Jason had taken every opportunity to antagonize him, and pretty soon they were both fighting each other every opportunity they got, something Ra's had encouraged for some sick reason. “A good training exercise” he'd say. And now he lives with Bruce, having to forgo everything he's been taught from birth, and act like a normal kid in the eye of the media. It was probably overwhelming, and Jason didn't envy him. He hopes that someday Damian forgives him for being such a douchecanoe. 

 

The clock read “10:01 PM”.

 

“It's the bed, right?” Damian's voice shatters the comfortable silence that had settled over them.

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“The bed,” Damian tells him, still looking out the window. “It's too soft. And very big. And it's the bathroom. Too spacious, with too many different settings. And the hallways, with all the portraits and trophies lined on them. And the furniture. It's all too much. And it makes it hard to sleep. Hard to focus. Hard to clear your head.

 

Damian, still not looking away from the window, continues. “When I first came here I'd sneak out and sleep outside. When Father found out, he tried to help, but it was too overwhelming. I wasn't brought up in luxury, and suddenly being thrown into it was too much. I was used to sleeping on the hard ground and cleaning in ice cold water. And suddenly I had a double stuffed king size mattress and a bathroom with more settings than I could understand how to use. I hated it.”

 

Jason sighs. “Yeah. I've been sleeping on the floor next to the bed for the past few nights.”

 

Damian finally looks at him. “Father can have it fixed for you. When he understood that it was simply too much for me, he let me design my room to my liking. Come.” He grabs Jason by the arm and drags him out the door to Damian's right across.

 

When he opens the door, his jaw nearly drops. There was no bed, just a floor mat with a thin pillow and blanket folded neatly at the edge. The room was sparse, with just a desk and a chair, and of course, Damian's prized katanas placed carefully on the wall. It looked like Nanda Parbat. It looked like home.

 

Damian goes to his closet and pulls out a mat identical to the one on this floor. “I will allow you to borrow this until Father is able to arrange the changes to your room.”

 

Jason honestly has no idea what to say. He usually had a sarcastic quip ready to go but that didn't seem appropriate at the moment.

 

“Uh.” He opens and closes his mouth. 

 

Damian holds out the mat expectantly, eyebrows raised.

 

“Thanks.” He finally settles on simple. No use trying to make himself sound stupid by running his mouth.

 

“Tt. It's bad manners to let a guest stay uncomfortable in one's home. I'm only doing what Pennyworth would expect of me.” Damian waves dismissively, brushing past him and placing the mat in front of Jason's window. “I trust that you can provide your own pillow. Despite how it may seem at the moment, I am  _ not  _ a house servant and will not be treated as such.”

 

“Would never dream of it, kid.” Jason lets a small smile form. Maybe he  _ was  _ getting a second chance with Damian.

 

“Don't think this means I like you though,” Damian warns him, face completely blank.

 

“Ha! I'll believe that the day you threaten to kill someone for insulting me in any way, shape, or form.” Jason snorts, deciding it was worth the risk to ruffle Damian's hair.

 

Damian puts him in a wrist lock and glares at him. “You are insufferable. I cannot believe Father wants you to stay with us after you complete the mission.”

 

Jason pulls himself out of Damian's grasp. “He  _ what?  _ He'll let me stay?” He looks at him in disbelief. No one's ever wanted him just because. He'd always been a resource to exploit.

 

Damian taps his foot impatiently. “Of course. Why else would I mention that Father was going to redo your room for you? It's quite obvious. He thinks you're intelligent for some reason but I don't see it. Drake at least appears to be intelligent.”

 

Speaking of Tim, Jason's never met the guy. Damian had mentioned he was “out” with some Super, so he's probably on another case. Which is a shame, ‘cuz Jason would've loved to meet him. He sounded like he was  _ very  _ good at getting under Damian's skin, and anyone who could do that was all right with him. 

 

“I'll have you know,” Jason begins, placing his hands on his hips. “That I am the  _ epitome  _ of intelligence. Einstein wants what I have.”

 

“Please don't slander Einstein's name.”

 

Jason runs a hand through his hair, tugging at the tangles in the process. “I swear, had it not been for the laws of this household, I would have slaughtered you.” 

 

“You could try.” Damian grins at him and saunters out the door. “Goodnight. Try not to die tomorrow. Again.”

 

“ _ I  _ can make jokes about my death.  _ You  _ cannot.”

 

“Tt. I can do whatever I want.”

 

“Except shut up, apparently.”

 

“That is your wish, not mine. If I wanted to be quiet, you wouldn't even know I was here. Remember that.” With his threat in place, Damian shuts the door behind him.

 

Rolling his eyes, he grabs a pillow and the thin sheet from underneath the blanket that was on the bed and laid down onto the mat.

 

It was much more comfortable than what he had been sleeping on for the past few days, and soon he falls asleep, the fastest he'd been able to fall asleep in a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading :)  
> if ya'll wouldn't mind commenting on this... 👀👀


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so i MAY have gotten ahead of myself when i said that there would only be three chapters lmao i realized that there was no way that i could get Everything i wanted into three chapters so I had to split it into multiple chapters...so while i'm not sure how Many, it'll probably be like six chapters instead lol.
> 
> but dw!! i have an outline planning everything out, so it should get done p fast ! (i really like this au so,,)
> 
> also i spell checked it as best as i could but if i missed some stuff im sorry lol

_ October 19th, 2004 _

 

_ The walls were white, the bright artificial light glistening sharply off of them. It was too bright and he couldn’t see anything, but he kept going, running down the twisting labyrinth. It was too quiet, the only noise was his ragged breathing and the patter of his bare feet pounding against the cool floor. When he was younger,  _ **_they_ ** _ would talk to him, or at least talk to each other; he knew  _ **_they_ ** _ were there. But the older he got, the quieter the voices got, until  _ **_they_ ** _ were drowned out by the blood roaring through his veins to his ears. He hated it, but he ran on. _

 

_ He didn’t want to spend the night alone here again. _

 

_ He ran on blindly, eyes screwed tightly shut, relying on his other senses to make it out without running into anything. He could sense things humans couldn’t. He knew when there was an obstacle approaching without having to see it.  _ **_They_ ** _ gave him that gift, and when he is older,  _ **_they_ ** _ will give him his full gift.  _ **_They’ll_ ** _ make him like Grandfather.  _

 

_ Grandfather. _

 

_ He had to find his grandfather. He stills, tilting his head to the side, angling it so that he can hear better.  _

 

_ There. _

 

_ Thirty feet away, Grandfather pauses, and he can see his smile, despite his closed his eyes. “Good job,” he tells him, “Now don’t lose me.” and takes off. _

 

_ He narrows his senses onto his grandfather and sprints forwards, eyes still glued shut. Grandfather takes a left, so he takes a shortcut. He runs straight up the vertical wall and valts himself over four different walls, landing in a crouch. He’s close to Grandfather, but he proceeds with caution. Grandfather has far better senses than him because he was fully transformed. He does his best not to alert him to his presence.  _

 

_ He inches closer. _

 

_ Twenty feet. _

 

_ Fifteen feet.  _

 

_ Ten feet. _

 

_ Grandfather disappears. _

 

_ He does not get angry. He does not get frustrated. He was taught to be better than that. Instead, he clears his head and goes after his grandfather once more. _

 

_ - _

 

_ “You did far better.” Grandfather tells him. “A human would not have been able to catch me at all.” _

 

_ “I am not human.” _

 

_ “No,” agrees Grandfather. “But you are not a Talon either.” _

 

_ “Not yet.” _

 

_ “Not yet.” _

 

_ Grandfather’s glistening, yellow eyes meet his bright blue ones as he crouches down to look him in the eyes. _

 

_ ‘Grandfather looks so young.’ He thinks to himself. He knows better. Grandfather is old. Very old. He reaches out and touches his grandfather’s face. Grandfather allows him the physical contact for a minute before ripping away his hand. _

 

_ “You know the rules, my little robin.” He warns. Grandfather looks calm, but his eyes are blazing. He knows he made a mistake. Physical contact for personal enjoyment was forbidden. If he had been a fully fledged Talon he could have been put on ice for years. He does not want to be put on ice again. It was dark, and he couldn’t move. It was scary, and sometimes he was not as brave as he pretended to be. _

 

_ “I know.” He doesn’t try to touch him again. _

 

**Chapter Two**

 

March 14th, 2019

 

The cool, crisp air swirled around Jason, making him pull his jacket closer to his body, as he made his way towards the circus.

 

He regrets not bringing a thicker jacket, but March had this tendency to change the temperature every few hours, and when he had left the manor, it had been really warm, almost hot. Now all he had was the sweater Alfred had got him and his trusty leather jacket. 

 

It would have to be enough, he couldn't exactly lug around his entire wardrobe with him. 

 

He could see the ferris wheel and yellow flags from the tips of the tents poke up in the distance, and he walks a little bit faster.

 

Pretty soon the full circus came into view and he takes his place in one of the long, winding lines that led to the entrance of the circus. Jason's surprised at the amount of people waiting to get in. The circus had been here long enough that most people would have already forgotten about it, but he guesses that he shouldn't underestimate a secret criminal organization's ability to attract people to their base of operation.

 

He takes a moment to observe the people around him. In front of him is an elderly couple who were laughing at some joke their granddaughter made. She was a cute kid, dressed in a purple shirt and blue overalls. Her hair had probably been in pigtails earlier but now half had fallen out and the woman was desperately trying to fix it to no avail. That kid’s hair was almost as unruly as his. Behind him were a group of four, arguing over whether or not they should steer clear of the clowns. Three of them wanted nothing to do with the clowns, but the last one was insisting that they  _ had  _ to go. Jason decides that if they were in a horror movie, clown boy would be the first to go. 

 

In the line next to his there was a couple with two very young kids. One was in a backpack-like carrier on the father’s chest and the mother was holding a small blonde boy’s hand, smiling patiently as he rattled on and on about wanting to buy all the cotton candy in the circus, except for the blue kind ‘cause it caused sadness and he didn’t want to be sad today. 

In front of them was an older looking couple with two teenagers. They seemed to be trying their best to get their children to interact with anything but their phones, but they weren’t having much progress. The dad finally swipes their phones from their hands and irritably tells them they can get them back after they leave. Both kids protest, but their dad doesn’t give into their whining.

 

His watch reads 10:26 AM.

 

After a good hour or so of waiting, he finally makes it to the entrance. A woman with large green eyes greets him enthusiastically. “Congrats!” She exclaims, “you’re the next 100th person! Wear this-” She gives him a bright red bracelet to put on his wrist, “And you’ll get 50% off all tickets and a free drink at any vendor!” 

 

He clumsily puts it on his left hand. “Uh, thanks.” and fishes out his wallet from his pocket to pay the entry fee when what she said finally registers. “What do you mean “next” 100th person?” He asks. 

 

“Oh nothing drastic,” she assures him with a smile. “That just means every 100th person to go in gets a deal! So after you leave, we start at number one again and after 99 people go through, the next one will be number 100!”

 

He raises an eyebrow but doesn’t comment. She gives him another bracelet that reads ‘I Paid!’ on it and he smiles in thanks and walks into the circus.

 

He’s immediately hit with the thick, buttery scent of popcorn and fried dough wafting through the air and his stomach growls involuntarily. To his left sat a stand of candied apples, each perfectly red and shiny, and he’s hit with memories of  _ Snow White and the Seven Dwarves.  _ He looks away from them, only to be met with an overweight man with face paint who was trying to shove churros into his hands. “Only a dollar.” He kept repeating. Jason shakes his head. “I don’t want any.” He reaches his hand to push the man’s persisting arm. The man sees his red bracelet and frowns, his entire demeanor changing. “Better get used to it here.” He tells him in a snappy tone and leaves Jason alone and bewildered. He keeps walking.

 

Looking around him, the circus seems ordinary, but a lot of the time, the things that seem the most harmless are actually the most dangerous.  He glances up and sees a faded and ripped banner with a smiling clown on it. The rips were placed in places that made the clown’s grin look maniacal. The banner read _ “You’ll have so much fun you’ll never want to leave!” _ Jason scrunches up his nose, he’d never willingly stay in a circus for the rest of his life, thank you very much.

 

A carousel filled with chattering children and bored looking parents comes into view. The carousel is a dull color, probably faded with time. The lights that lined it gave off a dim yellow-orange light that made the area around it seem strange in the daylight. The horses’ elaborate designs were chipping off, and as they turned towards him, he could swear they looked a little too sad. He stared at a dull grey horse. It blinked and shook its mane. Jason squeezed his eyes shut, rubbed them, and reopened them. Everything was stationary, and nobody else looked like they had seen anything weird.

 

He shakes his head. “Get a grip,” he mutters to himself “You have a job to do, stop letting stories get to your head.” 

 

He looks down at his watch.

 

It was 3:08 PM. He blinks in confusion. He could have sworn that it had been only an hour or two since he had gotten into the circus. Perhaps he had gotten distracted and lost track of the time.

 

He looks behind him, expecting to see the entrance, but instead, he’s in a secluded and run down area that is completely empty. There was no sound, and the colors in this section seem to have disappeared, everywhere he looked, everything was a varying shade of grey. Even his own hands looked a dull grey. When he looks up all he sees are thin, grey owl feathers swirling down from the sky.

 

The carousel was completely grey and abandoned, the horses laying on the ground with their legs broken off and their manes gone.  A lone swing creaked as the wind gently blew it back and forth. When he blinks, there’s suddenly a boy on the swing. Or maybe he had been there all along. Jason was regretting accepting this mission from Batman more and more. The boy seemed to blend in with the rest of the surroundings, bleak and grey, but when he looks up at Jason, he’s met with shocking blue irises. Jason recognizes him from the pictures Batman had taken. As he opens his mouth to call out to the boy, the boy sends him a lazy grin and tells him “Reality is a prison and an illusion, and you’re its prisoner.” The boy snaps his fingers and Jason opens his eyes that he didn’t know he had closed and he’s back standing in front of the carousel, bright colors bleeding from everywhere and kids chattering loudly while their parents try to shush them. 

 

Jason can’t help his jaw dropping in shock. He pinches his arm, slaps his face (earning a few weird looks from the people around him). He spots a rustic looking water pump and stumbles towards it, the cold water pricking at his numb skin and he splashes it onto his face.

 

He sinks onto the ground and leans against the pump, breathing erratically. 

 

Closing his eyes, he forces himself to meditate, just like Ducra had taught him.  _ Clear your mind.  _ He imagines a thick fog rolling back, leaving his mind barren and empty.  _ Find your focal point.  _ He focuses on his heartbeat, counting the beats. One, Two, Three, Four…  _ Control your breathing.  _ He inhales and holds his breath for five seconds. He lets it out and then again for six seconds. Then seven. Then eight, nine, ten, eleven, all the way to sixty seconds. _ Take control of your mind and body.  _ Tensing his body he stretches out each part, starting from his toes up to his neck. Inhaling deeply, he opens his eyes and makes contact with a little boy with unsettling blue eyes in a velvet vest and a top hot.

 

“Well? Are you coming?” Demands the kid, arms crossing as he bends down to look at Jason.

 

Jason blinks and looks up at the kid. “Where are your parents? Where are we going?”

 

The kid rolls his eyes and snaps “I don’t need my parents and we have to go see the show.” He grabs Jason’s arm and tugs. 

 

The kid was strong. Super strong. He forces Jason up and looks up at him with a crooked smile. “We have a birdie to go watch.”

 

Jason frowns in confusion but follows the kid. 

 

The clock reads 7:37 PM.

 

They walk through a maze of tents and other popup buildings, and Jason has the feeling the kid’s taking him through here just to mess with him.

 

“You work here?” He asks.

 

“Yessir!” The kid announces cheerily and jumps over a string that was tied down to the ground.

 

Jason follows in suit. “For how long?”

 

The kid halters for a second but continues on in a cheery voice. “All my life, Mister! I’ve been here since I was born!”   
  
“You were born here?”

 

“That’s what I just said, Mister!”

 

“Where are your parents?” He tries to ask the kid the question again.

 

The boy stops dead in his tracks and slowly turns around as if he was attached to a string and looks at Jason directly with cold, dead eyes. “Mister, I’m twenty-two.”

 

Jason laughs nervously. “And I’m fifty-two.”

 

The kid looks at him with the same blank expression for about a minute before his mouth splits into a grin. “Ha! You’re a funny one, Mister. Way funnier than the other one, anyways.”

 

“Wait, what other one?” Jason questions, but the kid had already began scampering away, laughing. 

 

“Hurry up!” The kid calls. “The show starts at 8!”

 

“Eight? Kid, it’s like 3:00…” He trails off as he looks down at his watch. It was 7:49 PM. Confused, he looks around, and sure enough, the world around him was dark, the only light sources being the dim carnival lights. He shakes his head. “What the fuck…”

 

He sprints towards where the kid was standing, and just when he catches up to him, the kid turns and keeps running towards the center of the circus, where the biggest and tallest tent stood. He could see a bright light shining from inside and can hear people chattering excitedly.

 

He reaches where the kid was standing. “What other person?” He asks again.

 

The kid laughs. “I’m just the errand boy, Mister. I just make sure no one misses the show.” He opens the curtain like door for Jason, and as soon as Jason walks through, the kid disappears. Jason frowns. He was not liking where this was going, but he lets one of the ushers take him to his seat without any more questions.

He has a seat in the upper half of the stadium, and he’s packed in next to a screaming five year old who keeps insisting that since they were sitting on the left side of the stadium, something bad was going to happen. Her mother rolls her eyes and keeps admonishing her about superstitions, but at this point, Jason’s inclined to agree with the five-year-old. He gazes longingly at the right side.

 

The clock finally reads 8:00 PM and the lights dim as the ringmaster comes out to introduce the acts.

 

They go through all types of performances, ranging from contortionists to lion and tiger tamers to mimes. The show goes on and on and on.

 

The clock reads 10:30, and the ringmaster announces the final act, and even Jason is excited for what it's going to be. Everything else had been amazing, and he wonders just what could be so good that it was deemed finale worthy.

 

“Ladies, gentlemen, and others,  _ The Flying Grey Son!”  _ The ringmaster’s voice booms and reverberates throughout the tent.

 

The lights focus on a figure high above them. He can’t see the person well, but the person looks lithe and agile.

 

He runs and jumps, and the crowd below gasps. He was over seventy feet above them, and there was no net. At the last moment, he performs a series of flips and somersaults and takes hold of the trapeze.

 

Swinging back, he performs four consecutive backflips before letting himself spiral downwards towards the unforgiving ground below.

 

Someone in the audience screams.

 

About fifteen feet from the ground, he shifts his body’s position and reaches out towards the ceiling above him, and another swing drops down and he grasps it and flings himself upwards towards another, and repeats until he’s back at about fifty feet in the air, and then throws himself through a spiked ring. He repeats this again, except now the ring is on fire.

 

The act goes on for an hour. Finally, he finishes his act and gracefully makes his way down the very tall platform and glides over to the ringmaster, and Jason finally gets a good look at him, and immediately recognizes him from Batman’s photos.

 

He was dressed in tones of muted grey, a contrast to how bright the rest of the circus was. His hair was pitch black and short at the sides but long enough to reach his eyes in the middle. Jason also knew, even though he was too far away to see, that he had yellow eyes. 

The audience stands up, and the applause is overpoweringly loud. Jason resists the urge to cover his ears and instead claps along with the rest of the audience.

 

Four levels below him, he sees another person with an identical red bracelet to his own. It was a middle-aged man with blonde hair and a flowered shirt. 

 

Shifting his attention back to the acrobat, he tries to look for any evidence of anything that looked suspicious, but apart from time moving at an insane rate and his own brain playing tricks on him, there was nothing. 

 

When he turns his attention back towards the world around him people have already begun getting up and streaming out of the tent in strangely straight lines. He expected people to be pushing each other and yelling death threats, but no. An eerie silence had settled over the people as they marched out in single file lines.

 

Jason looks down at his watch. 

 

11:37 PM. No wonder everyone was leaving, it was almost midnight.

 

_ At least I can get out of here for a few hours  _ He thinks wryly. He didn’t like it here, it messed with his head. 

 

Pushing himself up from his seat, he waits patiently for an opening in the line for him to join it. As he walks through the sea of swirling colors and echoing voices, he keeps an eye out for the kid that had brought him here, but he was nowhere to be found. Probably past his bedtime.

 

He finally gets out of the air and looks up at the familiar looking sky. That would be his one constant during this mission, it would seem. No matter what happens, the sky in Gotham is always the same, a thick grey smog hanging heavy above everyone like a blanket. Sure, during the day it didn’t look that good, but it was pretty enough at night. The moon’s light looked hazy through the smoke and it made its light seem almost magical, and on a good night, the stars were almost visible and if you looked hard enough you could almost see them shimmering faintly, like a dream that you had just forgotten and are trying to desperately remember. 

 

Okay, maybe he was a bit biased, considering he lived here for most of his adolescence, but that’s irrelevant. Gotham was beautiful, in her own way. 

 

People brush past him and he’s brought back to reality. He sees a woman in a pink jumper with the same red bracelet as him walk past with her husband, talking excitedly about the performance. “Did you see that acrobat? He was amazing if someone told me he was actually flying the whole time I’d believe them.” 

 

Whatever she says next gets drowned out by the sound of a screaming little kid. He frows, but waits for the parent of the kid to shut them up. The kid keeps screaming. Jason looks around for the kid, as do other people, but no one can find the source of the screaming. Jason briefly wonders if a kid was actually screaming. It keeps going, and people stop paying attention, choosing to just focus on getting to the exits. Jason glances around wildly. If a kid  _ was  _ in trouble, it was probably the criminal organization that was hiding behind the guise of the circus.  If he catches them red handed, he might not have to come back. He races in the direction of the screaming.

 

He doesn’t know how long he runs, but he does know he’s been searching for a while. The screams sound like they’re coming from every direction, but also from nowhere at the same time.

 

Closing his eyes, he focuses on the screaming, trying to figure out where it was really coming from. He doesn’t have any type of superhearing, but he  _ is  _ good at figuring out where things were coming from. He follows the sound more carefully, only opening his eyes every few feet to make sure he doesn’t fall on his face. He still trips over a coup ofle crates and an angry grandma who lectures him for a good minute about how he should look where he was going. He just smiles at her and keeps walking, only to run into a pole a coup ofle seconds later. He hears her scoff, but it’s not like he wants to walk around with his eyes closed. He can’t focus as well as when his eyes are open. The screaming continues, but by this poi,nt most people are completely desensitized by it. Jason briefly wonders if they can even hear it anymore.

 

Closing his eyes again, and rubbing his nose where he had hit on the pole, he walks until he finally stands in front of a small, run down tent. The tent was a dark maroon, and when he reaches out to grasp the flap, it feels like velvet. Pulling it aside, he sees a man in a top hat holding a pocket watch in one hand and an exotic looking bird in the other. The bird, probably a parrot of sorts, looks directly at him before letting out a very distinct, child-like scream. 

 

Jason’s expression falls, and he doesn’t bother hiding his exasperation. He had just spent-

He looks at his watch and it says 12:14 AM- a good thirty something minutes looking for a bird when he could have been looking for the exit of this godforsaken circus instead? He runs his fingers through his hair and turns to the man, who was staring at him with an unnervingly blank expression. A pale LED light flickers in the corner, but the light streaming from it looks more green than white.

 

“Um.” Jason tries to give him an apologetic smile, but it probably came across as a grimace. “I’m so sorry for disturbing you, I thought your bird was a kid.” He laughs awkwardly. The man was still staring at him. Jason shifts his weight from one foot to the other and turns to leave. “Well sorry for bothering you, but it's late so I’ll let you and you’re very creepy bird alone.”

 

_ “Oh no, _

_ Don’t go.” _ The man speaks in a very dreamlike manner, and Jason feels his spine crawl. All his instincts scream  _ RUN  _ but he feels like he's glued in place.

 

“I really have to, but it was nice meeting you.” He takes his hands out of his pocket so they’re free, just incase he has to defend himself.

 

The man stands up abruptly and walks over to him, getting into Jason’s face.

 

_ “But I insist, _

_ You don’t have to desist.”  _ He tells him in his even voice, staring blankly at Jason.

 

Jason tries to smile at him, but being polite was already not one of his defining characters traits, and being pushed up against a wall by a man in a top hat wasn’t helping. “But  _ I  _ insist that  _ I  _ want to desist.”

 

The man’s eyes brighten and he pulls away, expression bright with glee. “Oh goody! You caught on with the game! Most don’t. But let’s see if you can catch on to this.” He holds up his pocket watch for Jason to see. “Can you hear the ticking?”

 

“What kind of question is that?” Scoffs Jason. “Of course I can.”

 

“Brilliant!” Exclaims the man. “It is synced with the human heartbeat.”

 

Something about the way the man says “human” puts Jason on edge.

 

_ “Well, I won’t keep you long, _

_ Just until the end of the song.” _

 

“What song-” Jason starts to ask, but the man starts talking again.

 

_ “You shall freely speak, _

_ Everything you wish to seek. _

_ But I take from you, _

_ Something true. _

_ You won’t be able to say, _

_ What I tell you on this day. _

_ You are cursed, _

_ But are told, _

_ Not to speak of what occured in this fold.”  _ The man smiles, his face appearing sickly in the pale green light.

 

Jason blinks, trying to clear his head. “That wasn’t really a song.” He mutters blearily. 

 

The man frowns and crosses his arms with a huff. “Yes it was! You just forgot the rules of the game.”

 

Jason stares at the man, bewildered. “What  _ game?” _

 

The man refuses to answer, instead he points at the door.  _ “Out. Out! _

_                                              “Don’t make me shout!” _

 

Not wanting to incur the wrath of the man, Jason quickly tumbles out, and scrambles away, looking over his shoulder to make sure that the guy didn't decide to just kill him then and there for not appreciating his impromptu poetry session. From the looks of it, that man belonged in the loony bin, not the circus. 

 

But at this point was there really any difference?

 

He was sure he would be the only person left in the circus and he'd probably get yelled at by security, but when he reaches back to the main area, a large number of people were still there, looking at attractions or talking to members of the circus.

 

He sees lots of the members, including the kid that had forced him on a wild goose between tents chase instead of walking to the main tent like a normal person, but he focuses his gaze on the acrobat, who was standing next to a man who looked very similar to him. Maybe his father?

 

The man was doing most of the talking, with the acrobat nodding just enough to make it seem like he was paying attention.

 

Jason can tell he’s not. 

 

He takes this moment to observe the acrobat up close. His entire body was covered in a grey leotard, except for his face and neck, which was covered in thick, white makeup. The boy had black eyebrows painted on in a way that made him look permanently sad or worried, and when it was paired with the red smear on his mouth that looked like it had been quickly applied by someone’s finger in a downward motion to give him a permanent frown, the boy looked utterly hopeless and innocent.

 

The boy looks up at him, bright yellow eyes flashing with an emotion that disappeared as quickly as it had come, not giving Jason a chance to decipher it. The boy sends him a fleeting smile, one so faint that Jason can’t be sure that if it was there, before his expression turns ice cold, standing tall and straight next to the man next to him, resembling a marble statue.

 

Jason can’t help but notice how muted and suppressed he looked. While everything else in this circus was colored as brightly as possible, both with their costumes and makeup, the acrobat seemed to fade away from the real world, as if hidden from view. 

Jason doesn’t understand why their main attraction, their grand finale, was put in such forgettable and bland clothing. Then again, nothing in this fucking circus made sense. He turns and makes his way towards the exit.

 

He walks for a good thirty minutes before he realizes that he somehow completely missed the exit and sighs, looking up at the sky, cursing whatever was up there for making him agree to this mission. He just wants to go home and sleep without having to worry about eccentric kids in top hats or screaming birds. He was only one day in and he was already losing it. 

 

“I couldn’t have gone to med school.” He mutters as a snake dance who had been fighting with one of the clowns takes out one of the snakes from a cage marked ‘ _ Venomous!’  _ and chucks it at the clown’s head. The clown yells in protest, ducking as the snake flies towards his head.

 

Jason keeps walking, and after a while sees the lady who had given him his ticket.

 

“Excuse me!” He called, jogging towards her.

 

She stops and gives him a bright smile that doesn’t quite meet her eyes. In fact, in his own professional opinion, she looked like she was going to stab someone. Working with customer services would do that to you.

 

He sends her the most apologetic smile his face could muster as he slows down and stops next to her. “I was wondering if you could direct me in the direction of the exit? I keep missing it for some reason.” 

 

Her face goes unnervingly blank, and she gives him the most unhinged smile that he’s seen in a while. “No re-entry if you leave now. you really shouldn’t try to leave now.” Behind her, a very large, pale man approaches. 

 

“Lady, it’s like one in the morning, I don’t think anyone wants to be here any longer. Please point me in the exit’s direction and I’ll get out of your hair.”

 

The lady grasps his arm and leans in close. “But you can’t leave now! You’ll miss out on all the fun! Don’t you want to meet your family?”

 

Jason jerks away from her and the man makes a grab for him.

 

Thankfully, his years of intense training don’t fail him, and he’s able to dodge him and run away from them. 

 

Sprinting, he looks back to where the pair stood. They don’t try to follow him, but he wasn’t taking any chances. He runs and runs, but the exit is nowhere in sight.

 

By this point the crowd has dwindled down to a few, disoriented looking people. 

 

_ ‘Why the hell are these people still here?’  _ he wonders as he slows down and blends in with the group of people. Observing them, he finally realizes what they all have in common. The red bracelet. He tugs at his, but it refuses to give. 

 

He bites his lip to keep from screaming. Looking left and right, he draws out one of the many daggers he has hidden on him, and begins cutting at the bracelet. It doesn’t give at first, but he’s persistent, and it finally slips off his wrist, triumphantly, he lifts his wrist up to observe it, only to have his hopes crushed by what he sees.

 

Where the bracelet had been were red symbols circling his wrist, clutching to his skin like tattoos. He then realizes why none of these people were leaving. He’d studied enough magic with the All-Caste to be able to understand the runes that were attached to his skin. It was a holding spell. As soon as he had put on the bracelet, the runes had been etched to his skin, trapping him and every other person who had one on. He curses at himself for being so stupid.

 

He hears a sharp intake of breath, and he sees some of the other unlucky victims looking at his wrist and then down at their own. Some of the others had managed to get their bracelets off as well, and they had the same problem. The red symbols were glowing dimly, and while they didn’t know what they meant, the people knew it couldn’t be good. 

 

What happened next wasn’t that hard to figure out. A mass panic spreads over the people and they begin running in opposite directions. Jason is able to remain calm for a bit longer, but when he starts becoming anxious, he knows this isn’t some natural anxiety that his body was creating, this was the doing of the organization that was behind the kidnappings. He’s able to hold out for a bit longer before pure terror encases him and his body reacts without his permission, taking off in the direction that he last remembered the exit to be.

 

Everything seemed to be closing in on him, and everything was blurry. The ferris wheel was bending towards him, the seats swinging violently in the wind. The wind, when did the wind come back? It had been so peaceful, but now the wind was ripping up everything, and it was flying at Jason. He ducks as a horse flies past his head, and watches as it smashes into a popcorn vendor, the head breaking off.  The popcorn falls out of the hole made by one of the hooves, and pools onto the ground. Disfigured forms fall upon the food, fighting each other viciously.

 

Shaking, Jason slowly backs up and runs in the opposite direction, hearing the ferris wheel creak from the pressure of the wind. He runs for what seems like hours, when he runs into a tent where clowns were removing their makeup. As he watches them, he notices that their faces were completely blank; they had no mouths, eyes, or nose. They simultaneously look up at him, and get up and walk slowly towards him. His heart beat erratically as he turned and fled the tent. One of them tries to grab him, but their hand goes through him. The wind blows harder.

 

Turning sharply around the corner, he sees contortionists twisting and bending and swirling their colorful ribbons. They see him and try to get him to join them. When he refuses, their eyes turn black and their mouths morph into something feral. They wrap him in their ribbons and he thrashes violently, trying to get free. He kicks one and she turns to smoke, unfurling around him and twisting, trying to suffocate him. He hits another. He also turns to smoke. The smoke smells sickly sweet, like poison. He’s on the ground as the other contortionists hold him captive in their ribbons. They look down at him, mouths spitting open to reveal lines of sharp fangs. They reach out for him, claws where their fingers should be. He launches himself forwards, headbutting one of them, and falling through them as they turn to smoke. 

 

Freeing his right hand, he grabs one of the discarded ribbons, a pale orange one, and wraps it around another’s neck, and they dissolve into smoke. The last two circle him and he tenses, ready to pounce. They do the same. They then dissolve into smoke in front of his eyes, the smoke of all the members of the group rising and spreading throughout the circus. Pale yellow eyes shine through the haze, blinking owlishly at him. He flinches and turns on his heel, trying to shake off the intense claustrophobia that was suffocating him.

 

His breathing is erratic and uneven, and even though he doesn’t have asthma, he’s pretty sure his lungs are going to give out. He keeps running, and he ends up back in front of the ferris wheel, which was now on the ground. The wind tousles his hair, but he thinks that there’s a person there instead, carding their fingers through his hair. Nearly jumping out of his skin, he runs blindly back towards the center of the circus, his vision becoming more blurry by the second. He sees one of the faceless clowns walking towards him and veers sharply to the left, where the contortionists had begun to reform. The smoke was still there, and it was getting thicker, and the world around him was becoming more and more hazy. The smoke makes a beeline towards his mouth and the force knocks him down onto his back, and flies down his throat. He coughs, trying to get it out of his lungs, his entire body spazzing and curing up as he struggles to breathe. His heart’s beating so fast he’s sure it’s going to give out.

 

He rolls over and retches, heaving his body, trying to get the smoke out. It finally comes out, but it circles around him, and he drops back onto his back, shaking feverishly. The world was spinning and was getting darker by the second. The wind blows even harder, and it feels like it’s forcing his breath out of him. He gasps for breath, writhing. He can feel his body shutting down and only one coherent thought is circling in his mind;  _ “I don’t want to die again’.  _ He curls up in a ball and breathes as deeply as he can. 

 

_ Clear your mind.  _ His mind is filled with thick, black smoke. It refuses to leave. He can almost make out a mouth and eyes in its form, mocking him.

 

_ Find your focal point.  _ His heartbeat is banging in his chest, it’s all he can hear. Is he going deaf? Panic claws at his throat.

 

_ Control your breathing.  _ His breathing is getting faster and shallower by the second. He tries to slow it, but as soon as he does, the smoke tries to get down his throat again. Someone screams. It might have been him. He can’t tell.

 

_ Take control of your mind and body.  _ He can’t feel anything, and a paralyzing cold realization hits him. He can’t move. His limbs are stubborn against his will, and he gives up. Whimpering, he tries to turn over, but he can’t. He was alone. 

 

Blinking blearily, he distantly remembers that he hadn’t had contact with Batman and Robin at all throughout the day.  _ ‘There’s no way, at this point.’  _ He thinks bitterly as a shudder goes through his body one last time before the spinning world above him spirals downwards into darkness and everything does numb.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading! feel free to tell me what you think! :)
> 
> (also the acrobat's [p sure you already know who he is but im not calling him that until i officially introduce him to the fic lmao] makeup is inspired by bruce wayne's makeup in that one episode of gotham where he gets kidnapped by jerome and taken to the circus [season 3 episode 14], just in case you wanted a reference to look at!)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wrote most of this the day before my sat instead of studying lmao rip.
> 
> okay so i low key feel like this chapter isn't as good as it should be but it isn't gonna get better anytime soon so :/  
> (i might rewrite/edit it later on but i just really wanna post this chapter and get it over with lmao).
> 
> also someone asked me what the ages of the batkids are in this fic so:  
> Dick: 21/22  
> Jason: 19/20  
> Tim: 18  
> Damian: 13  
> (i wanted them to be slightly closer in age lmao)

_ April 10th, 2006 _

  
  


_ The spring rains had come with a vengeance this year. The thunder roared and the lightning split the sky with every crack, but he doesn’t even blink an eye.  _

 

_ Perched on the balcony, he was perfectly at the mercy of the elements. Despite this, he does not worry. Instead, he shuts his eyes and lets the wind caress his face, the droplets of water that the wind brought with it dripping down his face in place of the tears that hung heavy in his eyes but he could not shed. _

 

_ He hadn’t been able to feel in a long time. _

 

_ Until he had been tasked with bringing back his little robin to  _ **_them_ ** _ and was instructed to raise him. To train him. To mold him into the perfect soldier, even better than himself. _

 

_ He had thought it would be an easy task. He had trained plenty of Talons over the years, and he had never been presented with any issues before. _

 

_ But most Talons were trained after they had reached at least adolescence. His robin was brought as an infant, he had watched him grow from a defenseless infant all the way to him now. He was eight and was already a force to be reckoned with.  _

 

_ He had the potential of a great warrior. He was intelligent, fast, and strong. He was able to do at a very young age what most could not do at their prime.  _

 

_ If only he was not so kind. His robin’s heart was far too compassionate, and while he would follow his directions, becoming a Talon would go against his nature. _

 

_ How often had he seen him rescue a cat from the flooding or feeding birds with broken wings who could not fly away and find their own food? How often had he seen people who were hurting and tried to comfort them? Or do silly tricks to try and make him laugh after a somber mission? _

 

_ No, Dick, as his daughter had referred to him, was too kind. Too caring.  _

 

_ He had initially thought he could train it out of him, but he soon realized you cannot change someone’s true nature, no matter what you put them through. _

 

_ He now understands why his daughter had left  _ **_them_ ** _ to raise her son. She hadn’t wanted  _ **_them_ ** _ to crush his spirit and tear away his soul. _

 

_ He hears faint laughter and looks down and sees Dick playing in the rain, looking up in awe of the drops of water that fell from the sky. _

 

_ He does not want  _ **_them_ ** _ to rip away his mind. It was too pure. _

 

_ Dick turns and sees him, so he cranes his neck and grins brightly at him, eyes screwed shut because of the insistent rain that was undoubtedly bombarding them.  _

 

_ “Grandfather!” He calls out, “Look! The sky is giving us water! Now my flowers will grow!” He takes off across the courtyard to where his little garden was, the water splashing underneath every footfall. _

 

_ He had allowed Dick to grow the garden as a type of lesson. He had told himself that he’d let Dick grow his flowers and then as a test he’d make him destroy it, but Dick had loved them so much that he couldn’t bring himself to do it. _

 

_ His grandson loved life, and he couldn’t let him go against his nature. _

 

_ Taking one last look at Dick, who was lovingly watching his hyacinths, he makes his decision. Dick only had two more years, and he needed to do something before then. _

_ Getting up abruptly, he gets his weapons and leaves the safehouse. Dick would be safe with the servants for a few hours. He had something far more important to do. He would not allow Dick’s mind to be fully destroyed by  _ **_them._ **

 

_ ~ _

 

_ The apartment was run down and smelled of decay and old alcohol and he wrinkles his nose in disgust. There was a reason he usually avoided this man at all costs, but Dick was far more important than his reservations about this individual. _

 

_ Tracing his hand lightly against the bookcase, he finds the one titled “London and I” and pulls at it, revealing a hidden stairway. _

 

_ He scoffs. The man never had been good at  _ really  _ covering his tracks. At least not in a way that would throw off someone who really knew what they were doing. Sorcerers relied too much on their magic. _

 

_ He walks down the staircase for a good half hour, waiting patiently for him to realize that he was here. _

 

_ He was not disappointed.  _

 

_ “Ezeerf-” The man’s spell dies in his throat. “Cobb? What the bloody hell are you doing here?” The man’s annoyingly posh British accent hits his ears and he forces himself to remain composed. He was not here for himself. _

 

_ “Constantine.” His acknowledgment was curt, but that was better than killing him on the spot.  _

 

_ “That’s ma’ name, dearest. Don’t wear it out.” _

 

_ He doesn’t waste time with pleasantries. “You owe me. For that time in Kardzhali. I am here to collect that favor.” _

 

_ “Straight to the point I see.” The man grumbles and lights his cigarette. “Alright, out with it, then. What do you need? A demon from hell? A-” _

 

_ “A preservation spell.” He interrupts him. He has little time, and  _ **_they_ ** _ will soon figure out he left without clearance if he is not home soon. _

 

_ “A  _ what?” _ Constantine looks at him sharply, a suspicious expression plastered on his face. _

 

_ He sighs internally. Constantine never had bothered to hide what he was feeling. He quickly explains the situation, but not before making Constantine swear to a magical oath that would not allow him to disclose any information about this encounter.  _

 

_ If Constantine had any reservations about betraying  _ **_them,_ ** _ he doesn’t voice them. Instead, he looks rather amused that he could meddle with their plans, and he quickly gets to work. _

 

_ “Alright! Take this” he hands him a glowing blue vial “and have the boy drink it. While it won’t necessarily preserve his physical form, it will preserve his mind in another form, and should he uncover the truth, later on, he will be able to regain his memories and his own mind, breaking any brainwashing or conditioning. Keep in mind, he will remain brainwashed or whatever ridiculous thing  _ **_they_ ** _ do to him until he is able to recover the truth himself or from an outside source with no relation to  _ **_them,_ ** _ which includes you, unfortunately.” _

 

_ “Thank you.” He grasps the bottle and slips it in his pocket. It wasn't ideal, but it was more than he thought he would have been able to get. _

 

_ “Eh. What are friends for.” Constantine waves his hand dismissively. _

 

_ He turns and begins to leave. _

 

_ “William.” _

 

_ He turns around. “John?” _

 

_ “What you’re doing for the kid. You’re risking a lot. It’s good of you. If  _ **_they_ ** _ ever find out and you need help...I’ll be there for you. I may not particularly like but what they want to do to that kid is unthinkable and unfortunately, I’m a semi-decent person so I'm glad you asked me for help. Now leave before I change my mind.” He waves his hand and a door appears in front of him. _

 

_ He shakes his head. John Constantine had never been one for pleasantries.  _

 

_ When he walks outside it’s still pouring, but the sun is also shining, making the sky a brilliant shade of dark blue, similar to Dick's eye color. He would miss his eyes, but saving his memories was already more than he thought he'd get, so he wasn't going to complain. _

 

_ He hurries back. He has his grandson’s future mind to save. _

  
  


**Chapter Three**

 

March 15, 2019

 

The first thing he sees when he wakes up are two familiar looking blue eyes, and the first thing he feels is his overpowering headache.

 

Blearily, he tries to rub his eyes but finds that he can’t move his hands. For a brief moment he’s hit with an overpowering fear that he’s still paralyzed, but when he looks down, he’s just chained to the chair he’s been propped onto. He tenses his muscles, trying to see if they’ll move, and to his relief, they respond to his commands. He lets out a sigh of relief and lets his head drop back against the chair before his mind finally catches up with the rest of him.

 

He was chained to a chair. Professionally. Each hand had its own metal covering so he couldn’t use them, and his body was wrapped in chains that looked like they were six inches thick. He immediately rears up, hoping to God that the chair wasn’t chained to the floor. The chair doesn’t budge, and he groans. It was chained to the floor. If he had been able to use his hands, his hands would be ripping out his hair at this point. Then again, if he had his hands, he wouldn’t be chained in the middle of a circus tent.

 

He hears a familiar laugh and looks up, expecting the kid that had brought him to the main tent last night (he assumed it was last night. Unless he had been unconscious for more than a few hours), but instead, he sees a boy who looks about 17 grinning down brightly at him.

 

“What are you so happy about?” Grumbles Jason, trying to stretch out his cramping legs, but they were held tightly in place. 

 

“Why aren’t  _ you  _ happy?” The boy shoots back, crossing his arms.

 

Jason shoots him an incredulous look, eyebrow arching past his hairline. “Well, gee, kid, I don’t know.” He snaps. “Maybe it’s because I woke up strapped to a chair with a bunch of chains. But I’ll tell you what, you let me out, and I’ll give you a number of reasons why I’m happy.”

 

The boy raises his eyebrows. “I’m a happy person, not a dumb person.” he places his hands on his hips in a very childish manner and Jason's seriously questioning whether or not this kid was actually a teenager.

 

“Could’ve fooled me.”  Mutters Jason, as he goes back to struggling against the chains. He was getting out of this damn circus if it killed him. Again.

 

The kid sits in front of him, occasionally commenting on his progress. Jason wants nothing more than to smother him with a pillow.

 

“Yanno, maybe if you shift your weight to the left instead of the right, it’ll work better.”

 

Jason looks up and gives him the flattest facial expression he could muster. “I’ll kill you.”

 

“Not likely,” The kid quips, “you’re chained up.”

 

Jason forces himself to smile. “When I get out, I’ll kill you.” He amends.

 

The kid smiles brightly. “Much better!”

 

While Jason isn’t known for his outstanding control of his temper, he hasn’t met someone who can get under his skin so easily since the Demon Spawn had become a part of his life.

 

Speaking of demons, devils, and everything else in between, where the hell was Batman and Robin? Frankly, he was a bit offended that they hadn’t tried to rescue him yet. Batman _had_ to have figured out something was wrong. Or maybe not. It’s not like they’ve worked together before. Either way, The ferris wheel crashing down to earth (and almost crushing him in the process) _has_ to have tipped off at least someone that something had happened. 

 

Or at least that's what he thinks before the lady that he recognizes as the lion tamer from the show opens the flap to enter the tent and the wind blows the flap open a bit wider and he sees the outside world for the first time in who knows how long. Scanning the area in front of him he sees the ferris wheel standing proudly, not a single seat out of place. He scans the rest of what he could see. Everything was normal. 

 

He notices a dull pain around his stomach, and he notices he had leaned forward to get a better view of what he had seen. The chain that was wrapped around his stomach was embedding itself in his skin as he resisted it to try to see better, so he leans back in his seat. The door flap had closed anyways.

 

The kid had noticed what he had been looking at and laughs. ‘Yeah. Nothing really happened. You were just dosed with a mild version of Scarecrow's fear toxin, and it just made it seem like those things were happening to you. It’s way easier to convince people to stay that way!” The unspoken “when they’re incapacitated” hung in the air.

 

Jason’s head still hurts, and he can’t quite keep up with the kid. “ _ What?”  _ He knows he's said it at least a million times by now, but he really regrets agreeing to this mission. Suddenly being chased to the ends of the earth before getting brutally murdered by the League of Assassins seemed a bit more appealing than it had a week before. 

 

“You were dosed with a drug that showed you your greatest fears. Which in your case were,” He scrunches his nose up as he looks at Jason, “huge falling structures, faceless clowns, suffocating and claustrophobia, being paralyzed, and dying alone.” The kid tilts his head as if he was trying to understand Jason's life story from just those five things. “Remember man, reality is only what it makes you believe it is. I tried to tell you, but I guess I could’ve said it in a less cryptic way.”

 

Jason finally realizes why he seemed so familiar. He had been the kid on the swing. Okay, so not  _ kid,  _ but with the way he's acting, he might as well be.

 

He wants to scream.  _ Why does every single little thing have to be connected in some way?  _ He was so tired of everything being some sort of cryptic Foreshadowing for something else.

 

“You couldn’t have just said ‘hey dude if the ferris wheel falls on top of you or you get attacked by killer smoke, it’s all in your head’ instead of that ‘reality is a prison’ bullshit?” Jason doesn't even try to mask his irritation. This kid really thought telling him some cryptic one-liner was going to help him. He wants to laugh, but every time he moves the chains around his stomach seem to wrap tighter, so he just settles for a good old fashioned scoff.

 

The kid shrugs. “It sounded cool.”

 

“God, you’re so dramatic. It’s like you were  _ made  _ for Gotham.” Jason feels his eyes roll all the way back, wanting to pull out his hair. 

 

“Thank you!” The kid stands up and gives Jason a theatrical bow. Jason's tolerance for this kid was getting dangerously low, and if he wasn't tied to a chair, this kid's life would be in danger.

 

He decides to take a different approach. To question the kid with seemingly mundane questions to try to learn more about the place. The kid seemed more than willing to talk.

 

So everything that happened was fake?”

 

“What?” The kid blinks at him, freezing mid-bow.

 

“Everything weird that happened was fake?”

 

The kid straightens himself up and answers, and Jason regrets asking him as soon as the kid opens his mouth. “Well, that depends on your definition of weird. I saw a man yesterday get a boner from a horse. Let me tell ya,  _ that  _ was weird and unfortunately real. Still not as bad as that one time where-” 

 

“I don’t wanna know!” Jason interrupts him quickly. “I already heard more than I wanted to.”

 

The kid shrugs again. “Sorry, Jason.”

 

Jason freezes, and he looks suspiciously at the kid. “I never told you my name.” It wasn’t a question.

 

“Nope! I know everyone’s name here, and so does the rest of my family!”

 

“The rest?” He starts asking the question the same time he finally actually looks anywhere other than the kid in front of him. 

 

About a dozen and a half people with red bands on their wrists were lined up next to him, all chained up to chairs. All of them were still unconscious. 

 

He could almost scream at the irony. He had been sent here to figure out how the abductions were taking place (and who was behind them but that was another issue), and here he was, experiencing it first hand. He hits the back of his head against the back of the chair. Where was Batman?

 

“You woke up early.”

 

Jason looks down the bridge of his nose at the kid, glaring. He was kidnapped, tied to a chair in a  _ circus,  _ and the only thing the kid thought was so surprising it was worth mentioning was the fact that he woke up a couple of minutes before everyone else? He was looking for  _ valuable  _ information, not information about his sleep schedule.

 

“What?”

 

“Usually the guests stay asleep for a couple more hours. You woke up early. Too early. That means They might take interest in you.” His eyebrows are furrowed and he looks concerned.

 

“Who?” Now they were getting somewhere. Hopefully, the kid would talk.

 

The kid laughs dismissively. “Don’t worry about Them.”

No such luck then. 

 

Before he can respond, the kid starts babbling again.

 

“How old are you? Do you like Gotham? How long have you lived here? Have you been to a circus before? Do you want to know my name?”

 

“None of your business, yes, wouldn’t you like to know?, unfortunately, yes, I guess.” Jason rattles off his answers, not paying attention to the kid anymore. He was more focused on the group of unconscious people that were being held against their will. If only he could just reach his comm…

 

“You’re not listening to me!” He jerks his head back and looks at the kid, who’s doing a terrible job at hiding his pout.

 

“Sorry. What were you saying?”

 

The kid sighs and places his hands on his hips. “I  _ said  _ my name is Kcid.”

 

Jason arches an eyebrow. “ _ Kid?” _

 

“No. K-c-i-d.” The kid pronounces each syllable slowly.

 

“Sounds like ‘Kid’ to me, Kid.”

 

“It’s  _ Kcid.” _

 

“Okay, Kid.”

 

“ _ Kcid.” _

 

“That’s what I said.”

 

“No you didn’t.”  Kcid picks up an object that was next to his feet and dusts it off. It was a suspiciously familiar top hat.

 

Jason narrows his eyes and looks harder at Kcid. He had unruly black hair, tan skin, and the bluest eyes he’d seen in a while. And he was holding a very uniquely shaped top hat that another blue eyed, black haired, tan kid had been wearing. Except this kid was obviously at least ten years older than the kid. His older brother then, he decides.

 

“So, Kid-”

 

“Kcid.”

 

“-Kid. I met your younger brother yesterday.”

 

Kcid frowns and taps his chin thoughtfully before looking back at Jason. “Nope. Don’t have a brother.”

 

“You sure? ‘Cus that top hat looks an awful lot like that kid’s, and you both look very similar to one another.”

 

He sees the slightest bit of discomfort flash through Kcid’s eyes before he plasters a silly grin to his face. “Nope! Never heard of him! If you see him, tell him to come find me though! I've always wanted a little brother or three!”

 

Jason notices his brief break in character and makes note of it. That would come in handy later on.  

 

He also notices Kcid's clothing. Or more importantly, what was on his clothing. On both his shirt and pants were elaborately embroidered owl feathers. The top hat he had put aside had a very distinct owl feather sticking out of it.

 

‘ _ Stuck a feather in his hat and called it macaroni,’  _ His brain immediately thinks of some song he had heard a group of kids singing when he was younger. He rolls his eyes and thanks himself for the input.

 

Kcid, along with all the other members, both original and brainwashed, of the circus had owl themed clothing.

 

Which meant that either this kid was  _ very  _ good at acting and was a part of the organization, or that he was kidnapped and brainwashed before they realized they wasted all their resources on a complete and utter moron and just kept him around to entertain them. 

 

While Jason would usually assume that he was a part of the whole thing, this kid just didn't fit the type at all. He's been surrounded by spies and double agents most of his life and he's learned to pick up if someone's lying or not. 

 

Kcid was definitely lying about the little kid, but he wasn't a conscious part of the criminals.

 

“ _ Kcid!”  _ A familiar, shrilly voice calls from beyond the tent and Kcid jerks his head back before turning back to Jason, smiling bashfully. 

 

“I know this isn't polite, but I have to go help Tetch with the fortune telling. I don't really like it but he'll probably curse me again and make me speak in only rhymes for the next month if I don't! I'll see you later though!” And with that, he leaps off of the desk he had been sitting on and runs out the tent, leaving Jason alone with a dozen or so unconscious bodies. It was very unsettling and Jason hadn't realized how much Kcid had actually helped the environment until he was gone. 

 

No point moping over that. At least now he could focus on escaping without some blabbing teenager to distract him.

 

Now how to free his hands…

 

An idea hits him and he gets to work. It isn't a good idea, per se, but it's an idea and it's a lot better than having no ideas, and this particular idea has gotten him out of some shitty situations before. He shifts his left hand, trying to position it correctly, before biting the inside of his cheeks to keep from making noise as he dislocates his thumb and wrist.

 

It wasn't a good idea because he'd need both hands fully functioning to get out, but it was a good idea because his hand would be free and he could call Batman for help.

 

He was a lot of things, but mamma didn't raise no fool. He knew when he was in over his head.

 

Twisting his hand, it pops and it slides freely out of his constraints and Jason lets out the air he was holding. Wasting no time, he pushes his joints back into place and places his hand over his comm, which thankfully wasn't removed.

 

Which was really dumb, but everyone makes mistakes.

 

‘ _ Red Hood to Cave.’  _ He whispers.  _ ‘California’.  _ All that comes back is static. He frowns and tries again. ‘ _ California.’ _ He repeats the panic word that they had agreed on. The only thing he could hear was popping and fizzing. He tries again because there was no way  _ Batman's  _ technology was malfunctioning. The dude checked everything like forty different times before using it. He tries again but there's only static.

 

“Now now, none of that.” Someone from behind grabs the side of his head roughly and jerks the comm out of his ear and breaks it with two fingers. 

 

Dropping the broken comm on the ground, the man takes his free hand and grabs Jason's neck, holding just tightly enough to make breathing difficult. 

 

Jason thrashes, trying to get free, but since he was already chained up, it wasn't doing him much good.

 

He briefly wonders how the hell the person had snuck up on him. He hasn't made any noise, as if he was a shadow.

 

He feels something warm next to his ear and throws his head back as hard as he can, connecting with what he hopes was the other person's face. It works for a second, the person lets go and Jason tries to swivel his head around to see who attacked him. When he looks, there's no one behind him. 

 

When he looks back in front of him, the man is standing in front of him, looking perfectly composed, as if Jason had never hit him.

 

Which Jason does not get because he hit him  _ hard  _ and his own head still hurt, so the man had to feel something.

 

The man smiles sharply, his eyes are as cold as ice. His eyes were yellow. Just like the acrobat's. He briefly remembers seeing the acrobat stand next to this man. He wishes he had paid more attention.

 

For someone who was trained most of his life to be able to defend himself and to be a perfect spy, he was really not doing well. If he wasn't so pissed off at the circus, he might even be mad with himself.

 

The man knocks the top hat off of the desk where Kcid had placed it and puts down an intimidating looking weapon down in its place.

 

Jason feels slightly offended for Kcid. The kid would not be happy when he found out his hat was knocked onto the ground. Or maybe he wouldn't care. It's not like he got to really know the guy.

 

The man pulls out another weapon and begins sharpening it in front of Jason.

 

Jason raises an eyebrow, but the man pays him no attention, instead, his eyes are focused on the blade. With every swipe, the talon seems to get sharper and sharper.

 

Which was obviously the point of sharpening a weapon, but that was getting way sharper than it should in that amount of time.

 

After what seems like forever the man finally looks back up at him. “Do not even bother with attempting to communicate with the outside world. The magic in place does not allow anything to come in or out. All your efforts are in vain.”

 

Before Jason has time to mentally mock the man for using language like “in vain” the man is suddenly inches from his face and is grabbing his chin with his thumb, looking intensely at Jason's green eyes.

 

“You have beautiful eyes.” He murmurs. “They'd look lovely in yellow.” And then leaves without acknowledging Jason again.

 

“Butch!” he calls to someone Jason can't see from inside the tent.

 

The very large, pale man that had been with the lady last night emerges from outside the tent and Jason wishes he could go back to not seeing him.

 

“Yeah, boss?”

 

“The...guests will be waking up soon. They are ready for transport. Dr. Strange is ready for them.”

 

As the man unhooks the chains that were attached to the floor and puts him in a wheelchair, still bound, and rolls him away, Jason takes a moment to catalog everything that had happened.

 

One. Batman and Robin were being kept out by magic, and he couldn't contact them because of the magic.

Two. The yellow-eyed man had authority here, meaning that he probably knew at least some of what was going on here. When he gets free, he needs to tail the man. Maybe befriend his son, or whatever, the acrobat to be able to get closer to him.

Three. They were probably gonna be brainwashed soon. That would be fun.

Four. The creepy man wanted to get him color contacts.

 

Personally, Jason didn't think he looked good in yellow but everyone was entitled to their own opinion.

 

He briefly wonders if the man wore color contacts and if he makes the acrobat wear them too. That would be the perfect amount of dramatic for a supervillain. Not that he was sure he was one, but he gave off the vibe.

 

Maybe he'd ask him for red colored contacts next time he sees him. He briefly imagines that conversation.

 

“ _ Mr. Owl Eyes! Remember when you said I'd look good with yellow eyes? Yeah, I was thinking about that and I decided that red would be better, so if you could just hook me up with some that would be great. Thanks man!”  _ And then the man would kill him instantly.

 

Tapping the fingers on his left hand, the one he had freed but then Mr. Owl Eyes had strapped against the armrest with a thick rope that he was pretty sure was used with the elephants, he tilts his chin back to get a better look at the man who was wheeling him to Dr-What's-His-Face, Freaky? Unusual? He can't remember his exact name, but it was a name that screamed: “I'm Probably Doing Something Illegal And I Want Batman To Investigate Me”. But Batman wasn't here. Looks like Dr. Weirdo would have to deal with him instead. He'd probably have a better chance with the Bat. Jason wasn't against killing.

 

But back to the oaf that was currently pushing him. He was huge, and his skin was ridiculously pale. Like someone had painted over him with a thin white paste. His eyes were dark and sunken in, and his hair was white with undertones of black. He also didn't look too smart.

 

He could spot the signs of forced, medical revival when he sees them. The overly pale skin, the empty look in the man's eyes. Hell, even his white hair. 

 

Jason's resurrection was unique. The Lazarus Pit was magically based, but this guy was probably alive because of experimentation or mutation. While Jason had kept his appearance and personality (save for the white streak in his bangs and a bunch of unhinged rage that threatened to break free at any moment that he had trained for years to control), this guy was probably nothing like what he had been in his original life.

 

Hell, he was probably being controlled by them as well, he certainly wasn't smart enough to do anything by himself anyways.

 

The man notices he's looking at him and looks down at him with a scowl. 

 

Jason sends him a cheeky grin. “Hi.”

 

The man rolls his eyes. “Hi.” He tells him gruffly, before refocusing on the path in front of him.

 

“What's your name?” He asks, undeterred.

 

“Grundy.”

 

“Hi, Grundy. I'm Jason, but you probably already knew that, didn't you?”

 

“Yes.” The man admits, still not looking back at him.

 

A man of few words, then. Not that was any surprise.

 

“Did Kcid tell you?”

 

At the mention of the kid, Grundy looks down at him but shakes his head.

 

_ ‘Jackpot.’  _ Jason thinks to himself smugly. On the exterior, he makes the most innocent expression his face could muster.

 

“Do you know him?”

 

“Yes. Everyone does.”

 

“Yeah, he seems like the type. Is he nice?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Jason was getting irritated with these one-word-answers. “Does he have a little brother?”

 

The man looks uncomfortable, and his eyes shift as he tries to come up with an answer. He clearly can't think of anything, so he just settles with not replying.

 

Jason honestly doesn't understand the secrecy behind Kcid's little brother. He obviously had one. There was no way they could look that much alike otherwise. Hell, if they were the same age, they could be twins. 

 

He switches tactics.

 

“What about the acrobat?”

 

“Huh?”

 

Jason would have rolled his eyes if he hadn't been trying to appeal to the man. “The kid with yellow eyes. What's up with him?”

 

The man eyes him suspiciously. “What do you mean?”

 

“Well, are his eyes naturally yellow? How old is he? Why does he look so emo? Is he related to Mr. Owl Eyes?” Jason blabbers on, keeping a carefully crafted innocent expression on his face.

 

“Talon is lonely.” Was the man's short answer before jerking his chin up, signaling that he was done answering questions.

 

_ Talon.  _ At least he had a name now. ‘ _ Ha...kinda like an owl's talons.’   _ This organization’s obsession with owls was borderline creepy, but who was he to judge?

 

They arrive at yet another tent, this one absolutely black. Of course it’s black. He rolls his eyes. Why were criminals so dramatic?

 

A man with red spectacles and a white jacket was waiting for them at the entrance, arms folded behind him.

 

His name tag read ‘Dr. Strange.’

 

Okay, so it wasn't Dr. Unsettling, but it was still weird,  _ strange  _ even. God, he needed to get out of here before he permanently started making puns like that.

 

“Thank you, Solomon.” the man had a weirdly calming voice. “Please bring the other guest and we can begin the procedure.”

 

Grundy parks Jason inside the tent and turns and leaves, leaving him with the creepy doctor.

 

Jason smiles awkwardly. “How's your day been?”

 

The doctor raises an eyebrow before turning around and fiddling with a machine. 

 

“You could at least respond, who raised you.” He mutters, cleaning his nails as best he could with one hand. He was bored. He wanted something to happen already. He was ready to watch the man attempt to brainwash him. 

 

The chance that he would be successful was slim, but it excited Jason. He had undergone unforgiving training with both the All-Caste and the League so he could resist brainwashing, but he can't help but hope for a bit of a challenge. He was getting bored. He needed stimulation, and behind strapped to a chair just wasn't doing it.

 

The man still ignores him.

 

“Bitch.” He mutters.

 

Grundy comes in every few minutes with another person. Pretty soon, all of them were lined against the wall, and the doctor finally acknowledges them.

 

“You may experience a bit of discomfort, but fear not. You will awaken better than before.” He tells him calmly, attaching bands to each of their heads before turning on a machine.

 

The machine slowly rumbles to life and the last thing Jason hears is the rapid beeping of the heart monitors before a blinding light encompasses him 

 

~

 

The next thing that he sees was the man removing his headband and Jason blinks in confusion. Was he brainwashed? He didn't feel like it, but he didn't remember anything. Waking up after passing out was quickly becoming old.

 

He thinks about the circus, trying to see if he felt any differently about the circus. An unmistakable rush of irritation hits him and he sighs in relief. He was good.

 

Looking back at the others, that wasn't the general consensus. Most were looking at Dr. Bitchboy with blank, complacent expressions.

 

The doctor raises his hands, imitating a preacher, and asks them; “Are you ready to join your family, in your true home?”

 

All of them answer “Yes.” and Jason follows in suit. It'd be easier to walk around and try to figure everything out if they thought he was brainwashed. Besides, even if he couldn't reach Batman and Robin he still had a mission to complete, and it's not like he could go anywhere.

 

And just like that, the doctor lets them go. Jason can hardly believe it. That guy had to be really confident in his abilities if he really thought he had successfully brainwashed them all in one go. He hadn’t even double checked. 

 

Maybe he was brainwashed after all. That would definitely not be ideal. But that was future Jason’s problem. For now, he had to focus on uncovering these surprisingly apt criminals and exposing them. He wished they were as dramatic as Ra’s and would come to him and dialogue about how they’re gonna end the world and he could just videotape it and send it to the police, but they were, unfortunately, smarter than that. Which was a huge bummer. 

 

Walking out of the tent, he’s immediately blinded by the sun and runs into what feels like a brick wall. He bounces back and trips over one of the ropes used to secure the tent and stumbles back into a crouch.

 

He opens his eyes and sees two yellow eyes peering down at him irritably. 

 

At first he thinks it’s Mr. Owl Eyes again, but upon further inspection, he realizes it is the acrobat from the night before. Up close, he finally realizes that the acrobat-  _ Talon-  _ was definitely not a kid. He was actually probably older than Jason by a good two years. He also realizes he’s still on the ground.

 

Clearing his throat, he stands up and brushes himself off. 

 

Talon was still staring at him with an unreadable expression. He reminded him of Batman. He couldn’t understand what either of them were ever thinking because their damn faces seemed to be frozen on ‘bitch face’. He’d say the same for Robin but that kid was just angry all the time and that’s why he permanently looked like he was gonna kill someone.

 

“Sorry about that.” He laughs, trying to talk to the acrobat. If he could get him to talk, he’d probably be able to get a lot of information about his dad/uncle/whatever he was.

 

Unfortunately for Jason, nothing was ever that easy.

 

Talon just glares at him before walking around him, making sure that there were a good three feet separating them. Jason counts to ten before doing a 180 and sprinting after him.

 

“Hey! Wait up!”

 

Talon does not wait up. In fact, he speeds up.

 

‘ _ Rude.’ _

 

Jason catches up to him and slows down to match his pace. “Hi...I’m Jason. But you probably already know that. That seems to be a trend around here. Do you guys have something against people introducing themselves or is it just to be petty?”

 

Talon huffs lightly, Jason’s first indicator that this person is capable of feeling emotions, and turns to look at Jason, stopping abruptly. Jason keeps walking for a few seconds and stumbles in an attempt to stop.

 

“I know your name, I just don’t care. Now if you don’t mind, I have practice. Some of us actually have to work.” Talon’s voice is very familiar but Jason can’t put his finger on it.

 

Shurgging, Jason walks after Talon, who had resumed walking. That problem would reveal itself in time. He had bigger fish to fry and he didn’t have time to try to figure out where he had heard Talon’s voice before. “Can I come? I have nothing to do, and you seem severely lacking in the social interactions department, especially for your age, so I’ll keep you company.”

 

He swears he can see a flash of irritation in Talon’s eyes before his face is smoothed back into a mask of impassiveness. “I can’t stop you.” His tone’s ‘i definitely could’ hangs in the air.

 

Jason scoffs and catches up to Talon for the second time in the past five minutes. “Perfect. Are you gonna tell me your name, or do I gotta call you ‘Yellow Eyes’ for the rest of eternity?”

 

“You already know my name.”

 

Jason falters for a second before plastering a grin on his face. “Well yeah, but it’s polite to let people introduce themselves.” He sends a pointed look towards Talon. 

 

If Talon notices it, he doesn’t acknowledge it, and he doesn’t talk for the rest of the walk, leaving Jason to his own thoughts.

He took this time to study the circus. Everything looked far brighter and inviting than yesterday, but then again yesterday he had been hit with fear gas and some magic, so that wasn’t that much of a shocker.

 

“ _ Talon!”  _ An excited shriek shatters Jason’s eardrums and pulls him back to reality.

 

Looking up, he sees Kcid sprinting towards them before launching himself into Talon’s arms.

 

Based on how Talon was acting with him, Jason expects Talon to move out of the way, but to his surprise, Talon wraps his arms around Kcid, returning the hug.

 

Okay, so Talon just didn’t like Jason in specific. Nice to know.

 

Kcid holds on for a while, and finally Talon wiggles free, and Kcid makes a valiant effort not to pout but fails. He then sees Jason and smiles widely.

 

“Jason! Tal, you met Jason? You’re making friends? I’m so proud!”

 

Talon rolls his eyes and huffs, blowing his bangs out of his eyes.

 

Standing side by side, Talon and Kcid look absolutely nothing alike, but for some reason, they look similar. 

 

Talon was taller, had yellow eyes, pale skin with veins that looked suspiciously black in color, and his hair was shorter on the sides and long in the middle. Kcid was obviously younger and shorter with bright blue eyes, tan skin, and unruly black hair that stood out in every direction. Despite this, their facial features were suspiciously similar, just like the build of their bodies.

 

Jason blinks, and the similarities were gone. Kcid was bight, bubbly, and overwhelming while Talon was dark, quiet, and intimidating. 

 

Kcid suddenly moves towards him and he reacts, aiming to block what he thought was going to be a punch. Except his hit never touches Kcid. It goes  _ through  _ him. Jason gapes, and pulls his arm back, staring at him and the same moment Talon hisses “Don’t  _ touch  _ him.” and shoves Jason out of the way and grabs Kcid’s arm. 

 

“Are you okay?” he asks. “Are you hurt?”

 

Kcid shakes his head, and Jason looks at Talon in confusion. He didn’t see Jason’s hand go through him?

 

Suddenly, Jason is pretty sure why no one wanted him to know about Kcid’s little brother.

 

It was because Kcid didn’t have one. The only reason why it was kept under wraps was because Kcid was very likely dead. He was a ghost.

 

He briefly remembers something Dracura had told him about supernatural beings. Some ghosts had the ability to change their appearance to different stages of their lives. Meaning the little kid that he had met the night before  _ was  _ Kcid.

 

This also meant Talon’s only friend was a ghost, which  _ would  _ be sad if Jason himself wasn’t practically a zombie and had a total of three friends.

 

Especially when Talon was obviously unaware that Kcid was a ghost, which meant it was probably safer to pretend he didn’t know either.

 

“Sorry, man.” He starts, reaching out for Kcid, but his hand is slapped away by Talon. 

 

He probably shouldn’t be surprised by Talon’s strength, the guy _ had  _ to be strong with all the acrobatics he does, but he is. Maybe it was because he didn’t really do anything to warrant such a strong hit.

 

“Tal, it’s okay! Don’t worry! I’m fine!” Kcid insists, but Talon is still glaring at him.

 

Great. He upset the one person he needed to befriend. This mission kept becoming worse and worse. It was like he was cur-curs-.

 

He frowns and tries to say it out loud. “I’m cu-” His voice lets out and his eyes widen in panic. Why couldn’t he say cursed?

 

He tries again, and Kcid seems to have picked up the issue.

 

“Have you met a man in a top hat recently?”

 

Jason gets a sinking feeling in his stomach. “Only speaks in rhymes? Thinks poetry is a song?”

 

“Tetch!” Kcid announces triumphantly, obviously thrilled to have deduced something that Jason was still confused about. “He’s a hypnotist! His curses are usually harmless, but they’re almost impossible to get rid of without him!”

 

Jason stares at him incredulously. “Are you kidding me? This is literally the worst cu*se I’ve ever been cu*s*d with. I’m gonna die. Again.” Jason stumbles over the words the curse won’t allow him to say and Talon raises an eyebrow at the “Again” part but doesn’t comment.

 

Instead, he grabs Kcid and walks away. “Go find someone else to bother, Jason.”

 

He half expects Kcid to protest and insist that they bring Jason with them, but he just looks back at him guiltily to mouth ‘sorry’ before turning back to Talon.

 

“ _ Et tu, Brute?”  _  Mutters Jason under his breath before turning on his heel and stalking in the opposite direction. He had a hypnotist to disembowel.

 

_ ~ _

 

He walks for a good twenty minutes before spotting the tent, and even though he has half the mind to go in there guns blazing (not that he had any. Batman made him leave his guns with him. A pity.) and demand that Tetch reverse the cu*se, he waits.

 

It would do him no good if he went in there just to get hypnotized or something. 

 

Just as he was starting to get impatient, he sees someone else walk out of Tetch's tent and walk away from him.

 

_ Mr. Owl Eyes.  _ He really needed to come up with a better name for the guy. Or at figure out his actual name. He can't believe he hadn't asked anyone for his name. 

 

Following behind him, he makes sure to leave an adequate amount of space between them. The League of Assassins didn't train him to be the perfect assassin so that he'd get caught tailing people. He was good at what he did, and no amount of yellow eyes or scary glares was gonna stop him.

 

The man ducks inside a tent that had ‘Caution! Do 

Not Enter’ stuck to the side.

 

‘ _ Perfect.’  _ Jason follows after him, darting inside the tent before the flap fully closed.

 

The room is dark, and the only light comes from owl shaped lamps that gave off a silver light.

 

He  _ can _ 't see where the man went, but he can see a lot of files.

 

Jackpot.

 

He quickly opens one of them and starts reading.

 

~

 

He doesn't know how long he's been in here, but he's learned enough to make him sick to his stomach, and he had been part of a murder clique.

Especially the bit on Talon...that was gonna suck when he ran into him and would have to explain to him his situation. Not fun at all. He'd Probably try to cut off his head, and from what he's read about Talon's healing and fighting abilities...he just might be able to do it.

 

Putting away the last file, he hears a low laugh to his right and his hair stands on end.

 

William Cobb. Talon's grandfather. Also a Talon. Which meant that Talon wasn't really Talon's name. They just never bothered to give him one.

 

“You foolish little child.” The man-Cobb- laughs. “You really thought you'd make it in here, much less access the files unless I wanted you to?” 

 

Jason wishes he had his gun on him. Or a knife. Hell, even a toothbrush. “And why would you let me? Seems kinda counter-intuitive to me.” He bends his knees, tensing, waiting for the man to attack him.

 

The man's cold yellow eyes glint. “I have my own agenda.” He tells him in a low voice before lunging at Jason.

 

Jason lunges back. He had been cooped up for too long and he needed to let off some steam. Time to put Talia's training to good use.

 

While they definitely weren't evenly matched (the dude had like 100 years of experience  _ and  _ a healing factor. It's not that hard to put two and two together), Jason had something Cobb didn't. Endless determination that stemmed from sheer anger and spite.

 

There was a flip here, a punch there, a kick to the right. Take it back now y'all.  All in all, things were going pretty smoothly until something hits Jason in the back of his head, causing him to fall, the last thing he sees is an owl mask looming over him, slowly becoming blurry as he loses consciousness. 

  
‘ _ Life is soup and I am a fork…’  _ is the last coherent thought he has before everything goes black for a third time in the span of 24 hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh !  
> has anyone figured out the tea w dick yet? i feel like i made it v obvious in this chapter, but if i didn't it'll be explained in the next chapter!  
> please tell me what you think ! :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> she's here uwu  
> there's only one more chapter left guys :')
> 
> OH YEAH HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY FAVORITE MAN DICK GRAYSON I'M A DAY LATE BUT ITS FINE !!

_ March 21, 2008 _

  
  


_ He turned ten today.  _

 

_ He had never really had a celebration for any of his birthdays, but this year’s seemed more solemn than usual.  _

 

_ Grandfather had had a grave expression on his face when he woke up for training. He looked a lot like he had when Dick was still little; with no emotion on his face, as if he was a machine coded with instructions, not his own person. _

 

_ Grandfather thought Dick had been too young to remember that, but he remembered everything. He knows everything, from how many bones the human body has and the location of every nerve to how to arm and disarm nuclear weapons. Facial expressions and body language are no different. If he sees it, he knows it. _

 

_ Grandfather always told him that he knew too much and it would get him in trouble. He didn’t believe him then but know he wishes he didn’t know as much. _

 

_ He had gotten up just as every other morning before, at three A.M. sharp, and he’s been training ever since, but he knows once he’s done, something will be different. He just doesn’t know what. _

 

_ His body feels heavy as if it is full of lead and he can feel his lungs straining to process the minuscule amount of air he was breathing in. Arms shaking, he takes in another uneven breath and screws his eyes shut, focusing on his form. He would not break. He was strong. He was not done.  _ **_They_ ** _ expected nothing but the best, and the best  _ **_they_ ** _ would receive. He didn’t have a choice, it was perform exactly as  _ **_they_ ** _ directed, or face the consequences. He does not like the consequences.  _

 

_ He doesn’t think  _ **_their_ ** _ rules, or  _ **_their_ ** _ consequences were fair. He frowns, allowing himself the freedom to make an expression, before carefully smoothing his face back into place.  _

 

_ He had been having these rebellious thoughts for quite some time. If Grandfather ever found out that these thoughts had returned, he’d take his fingers again, leaving bloody stubs on his hands until they slowly grew back.  _

 

_ He didn’t like it when his body stitched itself back together. _

 

**_They_ ** _ had decided to give him a gradual, slow transformation, so he still not fully what he should be. As a result, his healing was faulty and slow, and it felt like burning hot lava was being poured over his body when it happened. If  _ **_they_ ** _ found out that he had  _ ever  _ had these thoughts, they’d take out his intestines and leave him to put himself back together, and then put him back in the freezer. Grandfather had been very gracious and had not told  _ **_them_ ** _ after he had asked him about why  _ **_they_ ** _ were in charge when  _ **_they_ ** _ were so cruel.  _

 

_ Grandfather’s pale yellow eyes had flickered with an emotion that he did not understand when he had first asked him, before backhanding him across the mouth. He had not been gentle and the sound had echoed throughout the chamber. When he looked up at his grandfather, shocked,  blood dripping from his torn lip, his grandfather did not look remorseful. Instead, he looked wrathful. _

 

_ When he had spoken, it wasn’t loud and explosive. Instead, it was quiet and cold, a silent threat wrapping itself around each syllable as he spoke. He had then decided that he liked Grandfather better when he yelled. _

 

_ Grandfather told him that if  _ **_they_ ** _ ever heard him say those words  _ **_they’d_ ** _ hurt him until he wished he was dead. He also told him that  _ **_they_ ** _ made them, and  _ **_they_ ** _ deserved respect.  _

 

_ Now, he is older. He is smarter. He knows when to keep his mouth shut and his face neutral. He knows that Grandfather won’t hold back just because they are blood. He knows that Grandfather is not kind. He is not compassionate. Grandfather is cold. Grandfather is ruthless. And he expects the same from him.  _

 

_ And he would have to meet his expectations if he wanted to live to see the next day. _

 

_ Grandfather smacks his legs with a thin metal whip and he winces, before fixing his form again. His arms are burning, his legs are shaking, and his stomach feels queasy but he keeps going. _

 

_ He’s been perched fifty feet above the ground for over an hour now, only holding on with his arms while the rest of his body is in a perfectly straight horizontal line.  _

 

_ He looks at the clock desperately. His heart sinks. _

 

_ He still has an hour to go. _

 

_ “Breathe, little robin.” His grandfather admonishes. “I do not need you passing out and breaking your neck. Healthing a snapped neck is far more unpleasant than a broken arm or a lost finger. Especially with your current position, since you do not have instant healing yet. Our training would be set back for a good four hours.” _

 

_ “Yes, Grandfather.” He manages to gasp out.  _

 

_ Eyes glued to the timer in front of him, he watches the seconds tick by with agonizing slowness. Five minutes go by. Then ten. Then twenty. He feels sweat drip down his back and he unconsciously curves his body to try to get rid of the beads of sweat that had began to pool on the center of his spine. _

 

_ Grandfather whacks him again. “Dick.” He warns.   _

_ He squeezes his eyes shut and focuses on his breathing, which was becoming dangerously erratic, and takes deep, calm breaths. He would not break. He was strong. He was not done. _

 

_ - _

 

_ Grandfather cuts training short today, and as he leads Dick out of the room, his face is still impassive. He wishes Grandfather would give him even a glimpse of what he was feeling, but no such luck. His grandfather’s facial expressions and body language were kept sharply in line. _

 

_ Grandfather pulls him aside and presses something in his hand. _

 

_ Looking down, he sees a small vial with bright blue liquid in it. He looks up imploringly at his grandfather. _

 

_ Grandfather does not answer his silent question. Instead, he looks at him with an urgent expression and gestures at the vial. _

 

_ “Drink.” He hisses through his teeth, and Dick does not hesitate. _

 

_ He knows that whatever Grandfather did, it was best for him. _

 

_ Tipping the vial up, he drinks the entire thing in one gulp, feeling the cool liquid slide down his throat. Merely seconds after he drinks it, he becomes light headed and his stomach begins to protest. His grandfather catches him as he stumbles. _

 

_ “Breathe, little robin.” Grandfather admonishes him, prying the vial from his grasp and fitting it in his own pocket. “I can’t have you passing out on your big day.” _

 

_ “My big day?” The question leaves his mouth before he can take it back. He suddenly remembers what day it is. He’s known the date since he was a toddler. _

 

_ When he was younger, he wanted nothing but to be a Talon like Grandfather, but the older he got, the less appealing it had become. Now, half transformed, he knows there’s no way for him to back out of it. Today would be the day he became the Court of Owls newest Talon. _

 

_ A man and a woman with ceramic white owl masks appear and take him from Grandfather’s hold. He does not try to fight back, he was trained better than that. Strapped to a gurney, the only things he can see are bright, flickering LED lights and the occasional owl mask. Panic threatens to claw at his throat, and he bites it down. Panic would do him no good. He feels a mask being fitted over his nose, and the last thing he sees is a large scalpel hovering over his face. _

 

_ - _

 

_ A few rooms away, next to Cobb, the air turns the same blue as the liquid in the vial and begins to twist. Watching, it soon transforms into a young ten-year-old boy with bright blue eyes and dark hair. _

 

_ Blinking up at Cobb, the boy smiles brightly at him. _

 

_ “Hi! I’m Kcid! Can you help me find a friend?” _

 

_ Cobb’s mouth twists into a bitter smile. “Of course. I have the perfect friend for you. His name is Talon and he’s the same age as you.” _

 

_ Kcid walks closer to him. “Do you think he’ll like me?” _

 

_ Cobb looks at Dick-Kcid’s bright blue eyes and smiles wryly. “You two will be so close, it’ll seem like you are the same person.” _

  
  


_ - _

 

_ Everything was too bright. The lights were off, but the world around him looked like it was midday. He can hear everything, and he tries to cover his ears, but his wrists are still tied to the gurney.  _

 

_ He hears soft footsteps making their way towards him, and he can make out details about the person that he should not have been able to. _

 

_ A woman with an owl mask greets him, unlocking his wrists. He stands up and stands to attention, awaiting her orders. _

 

_ “Good morning, can you tell me who you are?” _

 

_ He looks directly at her, golden eyes glimmering, “I am Talon.” _

 

_ “Good. And who do you serve?” _

 

_ He looks ahead blankly. ‘The Court of Owls and only the Court of Owls.” _

  
  


**Chapter Four**

 

March 15, 2019

 

Blinking blearily, Jason tries to twist his head to see where he was. Immediately, he notices that he can’t move his head. In fact, he couldn’t move most of his body. Straining his neck as best as he can with his head strapped to a bed, he sees that his entire body is once again strapped to a foreign object, except instead of a chair and chains, he was strapped in with medical restraints to a gurney. Yay for variety.

 

“This is getting old.” He mutters, trying to wiggle free of the restraints.

 

Jason was personally never a fan of patterns, and this particular pattern of passing out and waking up strapped to a new and exciting object was particularly not catching his interest one bit. He chews on his lips, waiting patiently for yet another eccentric person to appear out of nowhere and start monologuing to him. He hopes they come soon, he’s getting really bored and he has to pee.

 

He knows this is a base of all-powerful criminals, but even they had to pee eventually, right? He wonders if he asks very politely, they’d let him go. Probably not, but it was worth a shot. He briefly wonders if ‘If you let me pee, you won’t have to worry about cleaning your gurney’ is a valid argument that they would accept. 

 

It would definitely cost them less. Or maybe they’d brainwash someone into cleaning it for free. Yeah, his bladder’s future prospects were looking grim, and the rest of him’s future wasn’t looking much better either.

 

Finally, he hears rustling behind him, signaling that someone was coming.

 

The blonde woman from before appears in front of him.

 

“Before you start,” He cuts her off as she opens her mouth to speak, “Can I  _ please  _ use the bathroom?”

 

The woman’s mouth clamps and she gives him the most irritated expression Jason had seen in a while.

 

Jason wasn’t by any means a beggar, but he wasn’t below groveling when he really needed it. He opens his mouth to add to his request, but she just waves her hand flippantly and picks up a glass bottle that read _ Pink Lemonade  _ on it.

 

He eyes the bottle with a sinking suspicion that’s only confirmed by the slight cock of her eyebrow. 

 

“Um.” He clears his throat. “Can you free my hands then?”

 

She looks at him for a good ten seconds before saying “No.” and reaching for his pant’s zipper.

“Woah! Lady! Let’s cool the jets here!” He yelps, trying to put as much distance between them as the gurney would let him, which wasn’t much. 

 

She looks at him with an unimpressed expression and says “Fine. Have it your way then. Suffer.”

 

“I will, and I will suffer happily.” He tells her.

 

She shrugs and puts down the jar. “Don’t complain then.”

 

“I personally won’t rest until I’ve complained about everything, but if it makes you feel better, I’ll say I won’t.”

 

The lady’s facial expression is a cross between amused and irritated, and Jason just wants the interrogation to start already so he didn’t have to deal with all of this. Where was Kcid when you needed him to diffuse an awkward situation? Nowhere to be found, that’s where. Which was a real pity, because it was too quiet in here and it was putting him on edge. He didn’t like it. Also, he was hungry. He can’t remember the last time he ate, probably before he left the manor. His stomach growls, and he’s hit with a dull pain. He wishes he had bought one of those churros from that guy the other day. Or maybe one of those apples. Or the cotton candy.

 

A loud crash alerts him to another person’s presence. 

 

Snapping out of his daydreaming, he waits for the person to appear.

 

This person is tall, regal, and gives off a general aura of douchebaggery. Jason immediately dislikes him and feels the need to push him off the nearest cliff. Too bad he was tied up. Otherwise Bitchboy Number Two would’ve had it coming. 

 

The man peers down at him through his owl mask and Jason wishes his head wasn’t strapped down so he could headbutt him. Looks like they learned after the Cobb fiasco. 

 

“Jason Todd.” The man’s voice is familiar, but Jason can’t place where he had heard the voice before, so he just settles for keeping his mouth shut and stubbornly looks away. If he wasn’t allowed to move, he could still act like an irritating kid. He’d been around Damian enough to learn how it’s done. “So  _ you’re  _ the infamous child who has been meddling with the affairs of the Court of Owls.”

 

The man’s hand darts out and catches Jason’s chin, forcing him to look at him. Jason stares back defiantly at the man’s expressionless mask, mentally wondering how the man could see through the mask, or if he was just walking sound without being able to see anything. If the second one was true, that meant that if Jason moved everything an inch to the left then the man would be tripping over everything. It was a very satisfying visual. Unfortunately, if he had the ability to give people healing factors, he probably had a way to see through a ceramic mask. A real shame. It would have been very entertaining.

 

He’s brought out of his thoughts when a sharp pain runs through his face and he has to blink rapidly to keep the tears forming in his eyes from falling out. The man had viciously attacked one of his pressure points, and with no way to defend himself, the pain was excruciating. He looks back up at the man, breath shuddering. 

 

Satisfied, the man lets go of his chin and straightens himself up to his full height, turning to the woman who had been standing there, watching them with intense interest.

 

“Thank you, Ms. Kean. Now if you would be so kind and fetch Dr. Strange, it would be most appreciated.”

 

Sending a gracious smile at the man, she exits the tent, only to reenter seconds later with Dr. Bitchboy trailing after her.

 

The doctor looks at him, unimpressed. “I knew you would present issues.” He tells Jason, who rolls his eyes. 

 

“Sounds like a fancy way to say ‘I couldn’t do my job’.” He drawls, sending a lazy grin at the three people standing over him. 

 

If the doctor is deterred by his comment, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he attaches Jason to his brainwashing machine and starts it once more.

 

Once again, Jason is hit with a bright light and everything goes black.

 

-

 

When he opens his eyes, Kcid and Talon are staring down at him. He blinks. He doesn’t think the brainwashing worked. Again.

 

Dr. Weirdo was in for it.

 

He looks up at his two visitors. Kcid looks especially distressed, eyebrows furrowed and mouth drawn into a frown. “I  _ told  _ you they’d take interest in you.”

 

Jason scoffs. “Take interest? More like I got caught snooping through their stuff.”

 

Talon rolls his eyes. He doesn’t look concerned at all. In fact, he looks like anything. His face is a perfect blank canvas, and if Jason hadn’t seen him moving before, he’d wholeheartedly believe he was a statue. 

 

Jason struggles to get free and sends them a pleading look. “Guys, please. I have to go. You can’t let them do this to me.”

Kcid immediately reaches out to help, fingers grasping the restraints when Talon snaps “ _ No.”. _

 

Immediately, Kcid’s fingers go through the restraints, and he can’t touch anything. Shocked, Kcid turns and looks at Talon, who looked equally shocked that his words were enough to stop Kcid from doing something.

 

Kcid turns on Talon, his eyes aflame with rage. “What is wrong with you? They’ll turn him into a zombie”- Jason has to laugh at that. Little did they know…- “And you’re just going to stand here? I can’t touch him, but you can. Help him!” Kcid demands, pointing at Jason.

 

Talon hesitates, before backing away. “I can’t he mumbles. I have to serve the Court.”

 

What Bitchboy Number Two had said earlier hits Jason like a ton of bricks. The Court of Owls was  _ real _ . Huh. Who knew that the Court of Owls was actually a thing? Not Jason, that's for sure, and he's been with not one, but two, elusive organizations...okay he probably should've seen this coming. That was his bad, he concedes. 

 

Kcid growls and drags his nails down his face, pulling at his cheeks. “No, you don’t.” Jason can practically feel his frustration rolling off of him in waves.

 

Talon looks sick to his stomach, but he still nods stubbornly. “Yes, I do.” He insists.

 

Kcid turns back to Jason and tries to untie him again, but continues to phase through everything he tries to touch, to both of their dismay. 

 

Jason resigns himself to his fate. The only people who could help him were a ditzy ghost and a brainwashed assassin, and neither of them was being entirely helpful right now.

 

He pauses, replaying that sentence. A brainwashed assassin. Brainwashed. Which meant it could be undone. He just had to figure out what to say to trigger it. Time to say every bit of information he had just read.

 

Opening his mouth, Jason employs the best weapon he had; his words. “Why do you need to follow their orders? What have they ever done for you”

 

Talon shifts uncomfortably, eyes darting back and forth. Before he opens his mouth to reply, Jason continues. “You  _ do  _ know how you ended up with them, don’t you? No? Let me tell you, it’s not pleasant. The Court sent granddaddy dearest,” Jason internally cringes as soon as that leaves his mouth but he keeps going, “To kill your parents, Mary and John Grayson. He then kidnapped you a week later. You were forced to undergo brutal training that no one should have to go through, much less a kid.”

 

“Shut up,” Talon growls but he’s shaking and Jason knows that he won’t do anything drastic, so he continues. 

 

“Your name is Richard Grayson and you were kidnapped, tortured, abused, and brainwashed to serve these people.” He insists. ‘You owe them nothing.”

 

Talon had lost all color to his face was staring at him in horror. “No.” He mutters, shaking his head. “No.”

 

“You don’t believe me? Go read the files left in the other room. You know I’m right.” At least he hopes he does. If he didn’t, things would get awkward.

 

Before Talon can either confirm or deny this, the air around both Kcid and Talon turns a bright blue color, and it pulls them towards each other. Once they get close enough that they’re touching, Kcid morphs into the same physical age as Talon before disappears entirely, as if Talon had absorbed him, much to Jason’s horror.

 

“Dude…” The word escapes him before he can bite it back and Talon turns to look at him, before crumpling and collapsing to the floor in front of him.

 

Jason blinks at Talon’s unconscious body blankly, trying to figure out what the hell just happened. 

 

Bitchboy Number Two rushes in, with Cobb in tow. They look down at Talon and the man in the owl mask grasps Jason by the throat.

 

_ ‘Kinky.’  _ Thinks Jason, before the man tightens his grip, making him struggle to breathe.

 

“What did you do to my Talon?” He hisses through clenched teeth. 

 

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Cobb looking down at Talon with a relieved and pleased expression, and he now knows why Cobb had let him read the files. He wanted Jason to help save his grandson. Cute. If only he’d return the favor and save  _ him. _

 

“Dunno.” Jason shrugs as best as he can with the restraints. “I just started talking. I guess some people just can’t stand my voice. I’ve been told I could bore a man to death by talking, and I guess they were right.”

 

The man tightens his grasp on Jason’s throat and he gasps, trying to breathe. 

“Talon.” Cobb stands at attention, waiting for the man’s command. “Take Talon and give him to Strange. As for you-” He forces Jason to look at him, “If I cannot have one of my Talons, you will replace him.”

 

Cobb hefts Talon up and begins carrying him out, pausing next to Jason. “I told you your eyes would look good in yellow.” He tells him humorlessly, before continuing out the tent.

 

“I thought you meant color-contacts.” Mutters Jason, desperately looking for a way out. The man seems to notice this, because he puts a thick black mask over Jason’s eyes.

 

“Now none of that.” He admonishes, tightening the mask to the point where Jason’s blood flow was hindered. Jason grinds his teeth, trying to ignore the sharp pain that was shooting into his head.

 

The man puts a bit in his mouth, and Jason tries to spit it out, but it stays put, soaking up all the moisture in his mouth. His mouth was very dry and it hurts to swallow. Soon he wouldn’t even be able to swallow.

 

He feels a prickling sensation in his left arm and he can feel something entering his body. It felt like it was soaking up his blood and he hears a muffled scream. He knows it’s him that’s screaming through the bit, but it sounds a mile away. He doesn’t feel himself screaming. 

 

-

 

The pain lasts for hours before the mask is aggressively ripped off of his face. 

 

The man is looking at him with his impassive owl mask, but Jason could tell he was angry. 

 

“It would seem,” The man begins, a hard edge to his voice, “That you have already been reanimated before, and as a result, it is impossible to turn you into a Talon. A true pity. You would have done so well.”

 

Jason sends him the most irritated look he could muster with the cloth still in his mouth. ‘ _ Horror of horrors, man.’ _

 

“What a shame.” The man sighs theatrically. “Looks like I’ll just have to kill you.” 

 

He pulls a thin white dagger from the sheath wrapped around his waist and aims for his heart.

 

Jason tries to scream, but the cloth catches and dissolves his screams into a silent plea. A figure appears behind the man and hits him in the back of the head, and the man crumples at Jason’s feet.

Talon appears from the shadows and quickly unties him, ignoring Jason’s shocked expression. 

 

He had been unconscious like two hours ago and already taking on his superiors. He then remembers his healing factor. Lucky bastard.

 

“Thanks, Talon.” He rasps out as soon as Talon pulls the cloth from his mouth.

 

Talon shakes his head. “Dick.”

 

Jason looks at him. “Excuse me?”

 

“My name.” He amends. “My name is Dick. I got all my memories when I woke up, so I guess I have you to thank for that. Well, you and Kcid for carrying them for me all along.”

 

Jason narrows his eyes and lifts up his fingers, calculating something in his head. Kcid. K-C-I-D. Dick. D-I-C-K. He’s eyes rewiden in exasperation. “You’re telling me that Kcid was a projection of your psyche that literally was named your name  _ backward? _ How did I miss that?” He mutters to himself.

 

Dick laughs and tugs at Jason. “C’mon, we don’t have much time until he wakes up and tries to kill us again.”

 

“Festive.” Mutters Jason, but lets Dick drag him out of the tent and into the outside world.

 

They tear through the circus, dodging people, animals, and tents.

 

They dive underneath an elephant, causing it to cry out in distress. Dick looks back sympathetically. “Sorry, Zitka!” He calls out, flipping over a vendor while Jason narrowly misses it by an inch and runs around it.

 

Glaring, he looks up to where Dick was still using his acrobatic skills to navigate his way through the circus. He doesn’t see why he can’t run like a normal person. Doing aerial flips, splits, and backflips  _ had  _ to use up more energy.

 

Jason was getting winded from just running, and his muscles were slightly enhanced by the Lazarus Pit for more endurance. Then again, he didn’t have a healing factor, and he hasn’t eaten in like three days. And the only sleep he’s gotten in the past couple days was when he was knocked unconscious, so he wasn’t exactly in his prime right now.

 

He increases his speed to keep up with Dick. Sore muscles and burning lungs were not an excuse to stop. He had been trained better than that. He knew how to ignore pain and discomfort and keep going.

 

He sees Dick looking down at him with an impressed expression from the roof of a trailer. He drops down next to Jason, keeping apace with him.

 

“You’re very good, for a human.” He tells him.

 

Jason snorts. “You think me running is impressive? Just wait until you see me get in a fight.”

 

They hear clamoring behind them, so instead of responding, they both run faster. They had a circus to escape.

 

The exit comes into view and Jason feels the anticipation build in his chest. Finally, he’d be able to get out of this fucking circus. He’s seen enough clowns and elephants to last him a lifetime.

 

The exit draws closer. Thirty feet. Twenty feet. Fifteen feet. Five feet. One foot. 

 

They slam into an invisible forcefield and bounce back a good ten feet.

 

“Oh my god.” Groans Jason, pulling at his hair. “I forgot about the c*rse they put on everyone in here.” He frowns. “Seriously? I  _ still  _ can’t say c*rse?  _ That’s  _ still an issue? After everything?”

 

Dick laughs, but there’s a tightness to his voice. “I told you breaking Tetch’s  _ curses  _ are almost impossible to break.”

 

“Stop saying that word. It’s making me feel bad about myself.”

 

Dick grins. “What word? Curse? Why don’t you like the word curse? I personally think ‘curse’ is a lovely word.”

 

Jason cuts him off. “Shut up and focus on the swarm of angry Talons and circus members coming towards us.” 

 

Dick sighs but pulls out two katanas from seemingly nowhere. When he turns around, Jason can see the sheaths on his back.

 

“Here.” Dick hands him one of his katanas. “You’ll need a weapon.”

 

Jason grasps the blade with both hands and readies himself.

 

They were getting closer, and Dick leaps forwards, flipping over the first line of people and attacking one of the people in an owl mask.

 

Two people circle around him, the blonde lady from before, and the lion tamer.

 

The lion tamer cracks her whip nonchalantly and turns to the blonde lady. “What do you think, Babs? Think he’ll go quietly, or are we finally gonna get some  _ excitement  _ for once?”

 

The blonde laughs and adjusts her gun. “Dunno, Tabby. Looks like we’ll have to find out.” And lunges at him. Flipping out of the way, his foot catches her wrist, and he moves it upwards, flinging the gun out of her hand. 

 

She laughs. “You’re good. Too bad we have to kill you.”

 

The other lady’s whip wraps around his neck, and he slices at it with Dick’s katana. It comes off, but when he looks at it, the whip had somehow repaired itself. She glares at him. 

 

“You shouldn’t have done that.” 

 

-

 

He doesn’t know how long they’d been fighting, but both Jason and Dick were pressed back to back while a fury of members tried desperately to kill them. Or at least Jason. He was pretty sure Dick couldn’t die.

 

Unfortunately for him, he didn’t have a healing factor, so every cut and bruise was still a part of him, and he could feel it. There was blood running down his nose. His legs were bloodied. One of his hands had gotten popped out of its socket. He had at least eight hundred different bruises. 

 

Dick, for all his abilities, wasn’t fairing that much better. There was only so much a healing factor could do for you when you were constantly being hacked at by weapons.

 

They wouldn’t last much longer, and the people around them knew it. They were all tensing, waiting for an opening to strike.

 

Jason’s katana shatters, and that’s when he knows that that was the end for him. He hears Dick mutter "My katana." in a sad sounding voice but he ignores it. Breath shaking, he puts up his fists. If he was gonna die (again!) then he’d go down fighting. At least he’d saved Dick, or whatever.

 

He makes a mental note to scream at Batman whenever he dies and makes it to the afterlife for making him take this case. He wouldn’t have a chance to do it while he was alive, obviously.

 

Or that’s what he thinks before a loud and clear voice shouts “ _ Yortsed eht ecrof dleif!”  _ and the force field that surrounded the circus shatters in a burst of purple, white, and blue, blowing most of the circus members back a good forty feet.

 

When he turns around, there are Batman and Robin, along with another kid in a red and black costume, and a woman with glowing eyes and black hair.

 

“Batman!” He exclaims in relief before he can stop himself. Maybe he’ll be able to chew him out today after all. 

 

Robin immediately darts over to him, with the other kid following behind him. This kid was probably Tim, Jason concludes. 

 

He looks at his suit again.  _ ‘Heh...condom head.’  _ he thinks before turning his attention to Batman and the woman standing next to him. She looks familiar. Was she a part of the Justice League? He racks his brain, and the name ‘Zatanna’ comes up. Right. Batman would need a sorcerer’s help to get through the force field.

 

Batman looks at his condition grimly. “We’ve been working with Zatanna to get in since you first entered the circus and we lost contact.”

 

It wasn’t quite the apology Jason had been hoping for, but then again he hadn’t expected one. He nods and the seven of them ready themselves for the attack.

 

-

 

“Jason! Look out!” Someone shrieks and he turns to see Bitchboy Number Two coming at him with two katanas. Before he has a chance to react, a small figure in all black darts forwards, tripping the man, giving Jason time to react, before melting back into the shadows. 

 

Jason frowns, trying to see who that was, before refocusing on the man’s attacks. This guy was no joke. He was good, extremely good. Hell, the dude could probably go up against Ra’s al Ghul and not break a sweat.

 

He’d worry about his mystery knight in shining armor later.

 

The man knocks out one of the eskrima sticks Batman had brought him. He had brought him two, but the crazy blonde lady had claimed the other one, and all the batarangs (he still thinks the name is ridiculous) he had lent him were out as well, so he was back to his trusty fists. 

 

He ducks but the man’s foot still connects with his face and he flies backward. He was getting his ass thoroughly kicked by this man, and it wasn’t a confidence booster, that’s for sure. 

 

He hears an enraged yell and suddenly Robin was standing in front of him. “If you hit him again, I will stab your face.” He threatens the man and Jason feels a swell of pride. The little bastard had balls, that’s for sure.

 

He lifts himself up and pats Robin’s shoulder. “I got this. Go help, erm, Red Robin was it?”

 

Robin scoffs, but when he sees his brother under attack from all sides, he leaps to his aide.

 

‘ _ Aw,’  _ Thinks Jason, ‘ _ He  _ **_does_ ** _ have a heart.’  _ before dodging a hit to the chest. He lunges and hits the man in the chin and he arches back and falls, mask clattering to the ground next to him.

 

Jason peers at the man’s face, trying to see if he knew him from somewhere. Someone who fought so well had to have had at least some connection to the League.

 

Looking down at the man, his jaw drops. “ _ Ra’s?”  _

 

_ ‘At least I know why I didn’t like him.’  _ he thinks to himself before readying himself for an attack. 

 

Hearing his name, the man opens his eyes and smirked before lunging at Jason, the dagger in his hand aimed for his throat. 

 

Jason jumps back and tries to hit him again, but he gets kicked in the stomach. Landing on the ground, he thinks back to one Dracura’s lessons. 

 

Closing his eyes, he focuses hard on one single image;  _ fire. _

 

He feels an intense heat burning in his palms and when he opens them, his  _ All-Blades  _ were in his grasp.

 

Ra’s immediately looks less confident, but attacks anyways.

 

-

 

Ra’s dropped to the ground. Obviously, it wasn’t just him, it had taken the combined effort of him, Batman, and the person who had saved him before to take him down.

 

Now that the threat was over and everyone was subdued, he feels the light in him extinguish and his blades vanish into thin air. Gasping heavily, he stumbles and falls down. The whole world was spinning, and he feels his energy quickly draining. The  _ All-Blades  _ required a great deal of focus and energy, and with his adrenaline fading, there was nothing for him to run on. 

 

He hears different people run up to him. Batman is holding him, Zatanna and Red Robin are hovering over him, Robin is crouched on his right, and Dick is holding his hand. As his eyesight begins to black out, he sees the small figure from before dart out of his line of sight and his consciousness melts to black, comforted by the thought that he was with his family. He was going home.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jason really came in full circle w the passing out at the end of each chapter huh lmao  
> thank you for readingggggggggggggggggggg!  
> you should totally comment [if you want to of course!]  
> did anyone figure out who that one character who saved jason is yet??  
> also if anyone still isn't clear about the Talon/Kcid/Dick thing, feel free to ask! I tried to explain it but if what i wrote makes no sense, i'll explain it to you lol
> 
>  
> 
> (btw the ra's al ghul as the head of the court of owls idea came from gotham lmao i just thought it'd be a cool twist lmao)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg guys...this is it :')
> 
> *just a minor warning there's a bit of gore in the beginning cuz Jason has a flashback of the J*ker, so skip the italicized part if that bothers you*
> 
> also here are everyone's official ages:  
> alfred: idk man he's immortal  
> bruce: 33  
> dick: 21  
> jason: 19  
> cass: 19  
> tim: 18  
> damian: 13
> 
> but yeah! enjoy the last chapter of this fic :)

 

**Chapter Five**

 

March 19th, 2019

  
  


_ The world around him is burning, but he can't bring himself to care. Instead, he resigns himself to his fate, staring up at the Joker through swollen eyes from where he laid splayed at his feet. _

 

_ The Joker laughs and aims his crowbar at Jason, and he screws his eyes shut, waiting for the final blow that would end his life but it never comes. _

 

_ Reopening one of his swollen eyes, he sees the Joker making his way to his unconscious mother and he lets out a gargled scream. Dragging himself forward by his one good arm, he reaches the Joker and grabs his ankle and pulls him back as hard as he can, which was admittedly not that strong since he was nine, but the man hadn't been expecting it so he falls backward.  _

 

_ When he stands up, face burning in anger, Jason looks up at him and gives him a half grin, lips cracking from half-healed wounds and he can feel the blood trail down his chin. _

 

_ Instead of hitting him with the crowbar again, the clown just presses a mobile button that activates the machine that sat on his mother's lap and walks out, laughing. _

 

_ “Tell the man upstairs I won't miss him when I go to hell.” The man bids him farewell before slamming the door of the warehouse behind him, and Jason can still hear his laughter as the beeping of the machine grew louder and louder. _

 

_ It was a bomb, he realizes a moment too late and looks back at the door, before continuing to inch his way to his mother. Maybe if he could get it off of her, she'd be safe. _

 

_ Ten feet. _

 

_ Five feet. _

 

_ Three feet. _

 

_ There. _

 

_ Forcing himself up, he reaches towards his mother and pauses, bruised fingertips brushing her cheek, before grabbing the bomb and scooting as far away as possible, and wrapping his body around it. _

 

_ 5 seconds. _

 

_ 4 seconds.  _

 

_ 3 seconds. _

 

_ 2 seconds. _

 

_ He looks at his mother one last time before squeezing his eyes closed as tightly as he could. _

 

_ 1 second. _

 

_ He feels a sharp, intense pain in his abdomen and smells burnt flesh and smoke, and then everything goes black. _

  
  


He can see the sunlight streaming through the window before he even opens his eyes and suddenly waking up became the least desirable option, so he tosses over and shoves his head in the plush pillow that he had been lying on.

 

Inhaling deeply, he can smell the faint scent of lavender and rose and he frowns. That wasn't right.

 

He opens his eyes, expecting to be in the warehouse but instead he's met with a bright room that was well decorated with large windows and pretty curtains.

 

Sitting up slowly, ignoring his aching limbs, he swings his feet over the edge of the large bed and looks around the room. He hasn't been in here before, and he panics for a brief moment before remembering that he was in the Wayne manor, probably in one of the guest bedrooms.

 

He lets out a heavy sigh and leans back against the headboard, head falling back. He wasn't in that warehouse anymore, and he wasn't with the League of Assassins anymore. He was home. If only he could figure out  _ where  _ in his home he was.

 

Right on cue, Alfred walks in carrying a thin silver tray with him.

 

“Ah, it seems you have finally joined the land of the living, Master Jason,” Alfred tells him in a calm voice, lifting up Jason's shirt to check on a wound Jason hadn't even known he had gotten. He takes a thin pair of scissors from the tray he had been carrying and snips off the layers of bandages that had been wrapped his abdomen. “It seems that an old wound of yours had been reopened in your recent activities,” Alfred tells him in an unimpressed voice, batting Jason's hands away when he tries to touch his stomach.

 

So that explained his dream about the warehouse; that particular injury had always caused him problems, even with the healing abilities of the Lazarus Pit but luckily, it healed quickly too.

 

“Where am I?” Jason asks, looking up at Alfred who was busily reapplying new bandages to his torso.

 

“Master Bruce's room,” Alfred tells him in his no-nonsense voice as he sets down the bandages and picks up the tray once more. “You're all healed, but I advise caution. Don't go around trying to flip over any more elephants as Master Dick does.” Alfred tells him in a dry tone as he turns to exit the room, leaving Jason to wonder how the hell he knew about that, and if Dick was staying with them as well.

 

Alfred, who apparently was psychic now, calls out “I'll tell the others you're awake. Master Bruce is currently out on business, but the others are all present and accounted for” as he walks down the hall.

 

Jason laughs and shifts his attention to taking off the bandages that had been wrapped around his hands and forearms. Most of the injuries were completely healed and he takes a moment to flex out his fingers to make sure he still has full control of his hands. Thankfully, they respond to his commands, and he lets out a sigh of relief.

 

Looking up at the ceiling, he notices there's a large window where the roof should be and he can almost see his reflection in the window glass. Staring up at the sky, he watches a pair of robins fly by and he can't help but let out a quiet snort. Bruce probably got the idea for Damian's superhero persona by staring out his window. What a nerd.

 

The longer he stares at the window, the more apparent his reflection seems, and soon he's watching his own green eyes stare back at him. He's so absorbed with staring at himself he doesn't notice the group of people that had gathered by the door, peeking inside at him.

 

A loud, over exaggerated cough, courtesy of Damian, brings him back to the world around him and he looks over at the four people peeking at him, only their heads visible. On one side he can see Dick and below him, Damian and on the other side a tired looking kid that was probably Tim and a girl that looked suspiciously familiar.

 

He squints, trying to remember where he's seen her, but he comes up with nothing. She's pretty short, with shoulder length hair and prominent Asian features, with dark eyes. She's wearing a black cap with a yellow bat symbol on it. Tim, who was next to her, was pale with dark blue eyes and black hair and Jason can tell from just one glance that he had a very expressive face. Damian, he had known for years but he takes a moment to stare at his face as well. His light grey eyes stood out against his well-tanned skin and he was frowning at Jason. He looks over at Dick, with his large yellow eyes and black hair; he was pale because of the Talon procedure he had gone through but he had gained more color to his skin since being out of the circus.

 

At least he thinks so. He'd been out cold for a couple of days, so maybe he and just forgotten what he had looked like.

 

They're still staring at him and he finally realizes what they were waiting for. Clearing his throat, he smiles awkwardly and says “Uh. You can come in if you want.”

 

Immediately, all of them walk into the room and Jason immediately regrets it.

 

“Ugh! Dick! What the  _ hell _ are you wearing?” He asks, staring at Dick as if he had grown another head, and at this point, he might as well have.

 

Dick is dressed in a neon blue crop top, purple exercise shorts, and to top it all off, a pair of orange fuzzy socks that were scrunched around his ankles, much to Jason's horror.

 

“You look like a paint factory threw up on you, man.”

 

Dick looks down at his clothes and then back at Jason. “I  _ like  _ these colors.” He defends, putting his hands on his hips.

 

Jason, who was currently getting a headache from just looking at Dick, shakes his head. “You can like those colors, that doesn't mean you wear them together.”

 

“I've spent the last twenty one years of my life dressed in a grey uniform. I will wear whatever the-” he glances down at Damian “-hecko I want.” Dick shrugs, adjusting one of his horrendous orange socks, much to Jason's dismay.

 

He looks over at the rest of them. “Guys.” He looks over at the girl, she looks reasonable enough, but she just laughs and ruffles Dick's hair. 

 

“You remind me of a friend.”  she tells Dick, who smiles back brightly at her and Jason knows he's losing this fight.

 

He looks over at Tim and his heart sinks. If he had thought he was losing before, he was positive now. Tim was dressed in a sleeveless red tank top with the sides cut out, which wasn't that bad but when he turns around his shorts have the words “enemy of the state” written on his ass in the ugliest font Jason had ever seen.

 

The girl actually didn't dress that badly, she had on an oversized yellow sweater and a pair of black exercise shorts, which matches the hat she's wearing but she was also wearing socks with flip flops, so she's on thin fucking ice.

 

“Jesus…” mutters Jason before looking at Damian, half afraid that he had also lost all sense of dignity,  and half hoping that he did so Jason could make fun of him but unfortunately, Damian had higher standards than the rest of the people in the room combined, so he was dressed in a pair of sweats and a thin white t shirt.

 

“Todd.” Damian acknowledges, before grabbing the girl's hand and walking up to the bed. “This is Cassandra. She is my favorite.”

 

Jason raises an eyebrow. “Wow. You're on a first name basis and everything too.”

 

“Don't be ridiculous. Richard is my favorite too.” Damian scoffs, and Dick looks up and smiles brightly at the gremlin.

 

“Okay…” Jason draws out the word, trying to figure out what to say next. “I'm feeling a bit betrayed right now.”

 

Damian rolls his eyes. “Don't. Drake isn't on a first name basis with me either.”

 

“Actually.” Tim cuts him off. “Technically speaking, I  _ am  _ on a first name basis with you,  _ Damian.  _ You're just not on a first name basis with  _ me _ .”

 

“Tt. Whatever makes you feel better, Drake.” Damian waves his hand dismissively, but Jason can tell that Damian was having fun arguing with Tim. He was having fun watching them as well, so he doesn't say anything either.

 

-

 

They hear the heavy doors roll open downstairs, and they all take their attention off of filling in Jason on what had happened in the time he was out (most of the people involved with the circus were going to jail but Ra's al Ghul got away. It was a bummer, but Jason wasnt surprised) and annoying one another.

 

“Bruce is here!” Dick hollers in a singsong voice before grabbing Damian and tossing him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes (much to Damian's horror) and grabs Cassandra’s hand. “Let's go, Cass!” He tells her, and they take off down the corridor, Damian yelling obscenities all the way down.

"Don't curse, Damian!" Jason hollers after him before freezing. "Holy shit. Dick! I can say curse again!" He hollers, running out the door. He can hear Dick laugh from down the hall.

 

Jason and Tim run after them, trying to see if Damian would get out of Dick's grip, but Dick was as persistent as Damian was stubborn, so Damian hadn't budged an inch, much to his annoyance.

 

“I’ll kill you, Grayson!” He threatens, but his threats fell on deaf ears.

 

“So We’re back to a last name basis now, squirt? Does that mean I have a chance of becoming your next favorite sibling?” Jason calls from behind and Damian glares at him and makes an obscene gesture in Jason’s direction. Dick, even though he wasn’t looking at Damian gasps and reaches back, swatting Damian’s wrist. Damian hisses at him.

 

“Use your words, Dami.” Dick admonishes, continuing down the stairs.

 

“I am a fully trained assassin,  _ Grayson,  _ and I will not hesitate to employ my training.” The kid seethes through clenched teeth, trying to wiggle free from Dick’s grasp once more to no avail.

 

Jason cocks an eyebrow. “So is everyone else in this room, short stack.” He pauses and looks at Tim. “‘Cept for you.”

 

Tim doesn’t seem bothered by that at all. Instead he calmly smiles at Jason and shrugs casually. “I could still end all of you before you had time to register what was going on.” A short pause. “Except for maybe Cass.”

 

Cass turns her head and grins widely at them, just as Damian attempts his great escape, trying to fling himself out of Dick’s arms by using his entire body weight. Unfortunately for Damian, and fortunately for everyone else, it didn’t work so he just ended up looking like a beached whale trying to get back in the ocean.

 

Letting out a loud whoop, Dick drops down from the last flight of stairs (which was about twenty stairs, mind you) and Jason almost feels bad for the strain that would cause on Dick’s knees before he realizes the bastard had a healing factor that would make Flash jealous. Or at least he thinks Flash has a healing factor. Or was it accelerated healing? He thinks its the same thing, but doesn’t mention it out loud.

 

The rest of them quickly catch up to Dick and Damian, the latter having resorted to begging in hopes of being put down, and crowd around them.

 

Bruce, who had just walked in the door and was hanging up his coat (yes, he had an actual coat rack in his house. He couldn’t just throw it on the floor like the rest of the world), looks mildly shocked at the downpour of black haired kids that just rained down from his second floor, but he doesn’t comment on it. He just raises an eyebrow in a way that looks suspiciously similar to how Alfred does it, and finishing hanging up his coat calmly before finally turning to them.

 

“I could have sworn when I left there were less kids in my house.” He tells them in an amused tone that Jason had the itching suspicion was directed at him (who was unconscious and so his presence hadn’t been very prominent) and Cass (Tim had mentioned she had been coming and going all week, and she had dropped by when Bruce had already left the house).

 

Bruce then looks at Cass and asks her a simple question. “Are you staying this time?” and she takes one look at everyone around her and nods. Jason has a feeling that she and Bruce have known each other longer than they let on.

 

He hears Tim mutter something that sounded a lot like  “I miss when it was just me in here.” and he looks over at Tim, eyebrows raised.

 

If Tim was bothered by the fact that Jason heard him, he doesn’t comment on it. He just sends him an overly detached smile and Jason is again hit with the thought that this kid needed to get some fucking sleep.

 

Bruce is still looking at them and Jason wonders what he’s gonna do next. Probably an awkward and short “welp, I’m glad you’re here. Now I have Batman stuff to do. So, Bye.” And then he’d walk off. Not that he’d blame him, he’s not too good with social situations himself (not that he’d admit it), and Bruce  _ was _ busy. There was a reason he was Batman and other people weren’t.

 

Bruce jerks him out of his thoughts by scooping all five of them into a large hug, and if Jason had been a less dignified person, he would’ve yelped in surprise (yes, he did yelp). They all stay there for a good five seconds before they hear someone clear their throat from a couple of feet away. They pull away and see Alfred standing next to the door, looking unimpressed.

 

“The one bloody time you barbarians actually express affection towards one another and I’m left out of it,” He sniffs, glaring at Bruce. “And after all I’ve tolerated from you all these years.” He’s frowning but Jason can see the amusement in his eyes.

 

“Aw, Alfie, you can join the group hug too,” Jason calls out “We don’t mind.” He pauses. “Well, the brat might.” Damian kicks at his head, having figured out that Dick’s shoulder’s give him a better range for inflicting damage on people. He had even started calling Dick “Richard” again once he realized this.

 

Alfred looks indifferent, but he lets himself get pulled into the circle without any complaint. He stays silent for a few seconds before speaking up again.

 

“Now, it’s a rather warm afternoon, especially for March. How about after dinner you all make use of it? It is a shame really, all of these accommodations but none of you ever use them.” He rattles off, effectively planning their evening for them.

 

“Alfred,” Bruce laughs, placing a hand on the man’s shoulder. “You don’t have to spend every moment of your life worrying about us and what we’re doing.”

 

“On the contrary, Master Bruce, you’d all be dead by now if it hadn’t been for me  _ worrying.  _ I don’t tell you how to Batman (total lie. Jason had seen Alfred chew out Bruce for stuff he’d done as Batman plenty of times), so do not tell me how to buttle, sir.” Alfred tells him in a no-nonsense voice, batting Bruce’s hand away from where he had placed it and Jason once again realizes how scary this dude was. 

 

Bruce holds his hands up in surrender, and the rest of them trail after Alfred to try and help him in the kitchen. As soon as he realizes though, he turns and glares. “What did I say about the kitchen? Go make yourselves useful elsewhere.” He points towards the door and they all walk out grumbling, muttering about how someday they’d convince him to let them help him.”

Alfred pokes out his head. “Master Jason and Miss Cassandra, maybe. But Master Dick isn’t getting within  _ ten feet  _ of my kitchen after what he did last Thursday.”

 

The rest of them laugh while Dick rubs his neck sheepishly, and Jason looks at Alfred for an explanation.

 

“He managed to blow up  _ instant  _ mash potatoes all over my kitchen in the fifteen seconds I left the kitchen. Cleaning it up was a nightmare.”

 

“I helped clean it!” Dick protested, but Alfred still shoos him away. “Ten feet back, Master Dick.”

 

He shuffles back a few feet and looks up at Alfred, who raises an eyebrow at him. “Three more feet.”

 

He does an absolutely necessary backflip and lands, grinning up at them. Alfred’s second eyebrow journeys upwards and joins his other raised one. “I said three feet, not seven.”

 

Dick shrugs. “I was raised in a circus.”

 

“We can tell.” Mutters Tim, and Dick gasps loudly. “Come over here so I can fight you!” He demands. “Alfred said I can’t go over there.”

 

“I know,” Tim tells him lightly, not budging from his position.

 

“Rude.”

 

Alfred massages his temples. “You are literally in a mansion.  _ Please  _ go anywhere else but here.” And walks back into the kitchen.

 

-

 

8:28 P.M.

 

Damian, Jason, and Cassandra were fine with the temperature of the water, but both Tim and Dick were glaring at the water from the edge of the pool as if they were a bunch of cats.  

 

It honestly wasn’t that cold, only 78 degrees, but when Dick and Tim and stuck their feet in the water, they had immediately begun yelling, jumping out of the water, and rushing to get as far away from the water as they could. You’d think the water was like 40 degrees or something, but no.

 

That and the rest of them had been conditioned from a young age to endure extreme conditions, which made sense. Tim hadn’t been raised as an assassin, and while he had undergone intense training with Bruce, that didn’t mean that he was immune to ice cold waters, his suit was probably adapted to ensure that he doesn’t freeze in such conditions. Dick, on the other hand, was trained as an assassin as well, but because of his healing factor, he couldn’t really become accustomed to anything because his body kept healing himself; they found out at lunch that he couldn’t handle spicy food because his tongue kept healing itself, and that had been an adventure all in its own, so it wasn’t really his fault either. He could survive it, but that didn’t mean he found it pleasant.

 

Cass, Damian, and himself, on the other hand, had dove right in and were absolutely fine with the temperature. Personally, Jason thought it was a little warm, but that was just him. (Unfortunately he didn't have a swimsuit at the time so Tim let him borrow one of his that was too big for him; it was bright red and had the words 'JUCY'  written on his ass. Just what he wanted.)

 

“C’mon, guys! Get in! I promise you won’t freeze to death!” He hollers at them.

 

Tim sideeyes Dick. “ _ He  _ might not…” he mutters, before inching even further back. 

 

Jason rolls his eyes and tugs at Damian. “I know I’m not your favorite sibling, but I’m asking you to make an exception for this.” He leans in and whispers something in Damian’s ear and the kid’s eyes light up in such malicious glee that Jason almost feels bad. Damian rushes forwards and tugs at Cass until she leans her head down so he can whisper in her ear. Her eyebrows furrow for a moment before laughing and nodding.

 

Sprinting across the pool, Damian gets out and runs past both Dick and Tim, yelling “ _ Father!”  _ at Bruce who had just exited the house along with Alfred. Climbing Bruce like a jungle gym, he scampers up to Bruce’s torso and whispers something in his ear. Bruce looks up sharply at Jason before a small smile forms onto his face and he sets down Damian, who insists he could have gotten down by himself.

 

He then creeps behind Dick and tosses him unceremoniously into the pool, at the same time that Jason lunges at Tim and drags him in, biting and kicking.

 

Dick thrashes to the surface, looking around wildly until he sees Bruce smothering his laughter into his hand and splashes him, getting him wet.

 

Tim had an even less graceful entry into the water, falling in head first, and when he finally reaches the surface, he goes for Jason’s throat.

 

“Woah! Dude, chill!”

 

“I’ll have you know, I  _ am  _ chilling because of how  _ cold this water is.”  _ Snaps Tim, still swimming after him. Jason goes behind Cass, who’s still laughing.

 

“Cass! Don’t let him get me!” He begs, cowering behind her while Tim sprints towards them at full speed.

 

Sighing, she swims forwards and taps Tim on the head and he stops midstroke from sheer confusion. “What?”

 

She just taps his nose and goes over to where Damian was sitting on the steps and sits next to him.

 

“Can I braid your hair?” He asks, and she nods. Damian often braided her hair, claiming he needed to keep up his skills with ropes, but secretly both he and Cass know that he likes braiding hair. And he’s good at it so Cass doesn’t object.

 

Parting her hair, he begins braiding one of the two dutch braids into her hair, while Tim swims up next to Jason.

 

“You thought Dick’s name as Kcid for most of your time in the circus, right?” He asks, and Jason has no idea where he’s going with this.

 

“Yes…”

 

“So then how did you switch from Kcid to Dick so fast? I’d still be messing up his name.”

 

Jason laughs. “Easy.” He tells him, leaning against the pool wall. “I just imagined that I was calling him a dick over and over again, and it stuck. That’s the secret, man, I’m not calling Dick Dick, I’m calling Dick a dick.”

 

He hears an offended gasp, and a wave of water flies towards him, splashing him in the face. Somewhere to the right, he can hear Bruce and Alfred laugh.

 

Opening his eyes, he takes in the scene before him. Damian is focused on Cass’ hair, braiding away and Cass is making whirlpools in the water, eyes unwavering. To the left, Dick is looking up from the pool, talking to Bruce and Alfred about something he couldn’t hear. Tim was next to him, looking at him with a small admiring smile. The sun was past setting, and dusk was taking over, leaving everything slightly dark with dim color hues contrasting against the sky, and it reflected in the water. Looking down at the water, he sees his own reflection; green eyes, black hair with white bangs, a crooked smile. He was smiling, and it was then that he takes a moment to breathe. Everything had worked out in the end; he was safe and he got a family and he knows everything is going to be okay.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay thank you So Much to everyone who has read this...ily all !
> 
> if anyone's curious i thought of the plot to this fic while listening to the song 'welcome to the show' by britt nicole :)
> 
> also if you're interested, the first part of a two part fic about Cass is up and it explains how Cass meets Bruce and some other stuff (like the friend that Dick reminded her of) and stuff! 
> 
> but yeah! thank you so much for reading, and drop a comment telling me your thoughts on this fic [if you want] :)
> 
>  
> 
> edit: dnskxj yALL I FORGOT TO ACTUALLY PUT IN THE SCENE WHERE JASON GETS OVER TETCH'S CURSE SO I JUST ADDED THAT IN WJDJSKD rip lmao


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